Everybody's Looking For Something
by theglamourfades
Summary: Chaos is close to reigning in Fenchurch East, cases remaining unsolved - but thanks to the unlikeliest of suspects, Alex's subconscious is running riot. S3 set, but not completely canon. Gene x Alex.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! I'm a relative newcomer to Ashes (better late than never), I watched it all for the first time last summer and fell in love with it - Galex especially captured my heart and then subsequently shattered it with that ending *sobs forever* so there was only one thing for it in my wounded shipper heart - write fic! This is my first A2A fic and I don't plan for it to be my last.**

 **This fic is set part way through 3.3, swerves away from canon, goes back again...but I won't spoil too much. Hopefully I've captured the characters okay (not gonna lie, as much as I adore Gene I was nervous of writing him - even as a Brit Northerner living not too far from Manchester)...**

 **Disclaimer: Ashes To Ashes belongs to Kudos/BBC/Matthew Graham and Ashley Pharoah.**

* * *

 _Everybody's Looking For Something_

Chapter 1

 _# Sweet dreams are made of this  
Who am I to disagree  
I travel the world and the seven seas  
Everybody's looking for something  
Some of them want to use you  
Some of them want to get used by you  
Some of them want to abuse you  
Some of them want to be abused #_

In the offices of Fenchurch East CID, the volume of the small, slightly worse-for-wear radio was turned up in response to the song that had started to play. The sound coming from the speakers was tinny and distorted, and it did nothing for the general atmosphere which had already plummeted to a dangerous low.

Shaz, as ever, took it upon herself to lighten the mood – or at the very least, give it a decent attempt.

"Oh, I love this one!" she exclaimed, turning the notch yet higher and bopping her head in time to the music. "Annie Lennox is amazing."

"Dunno," Ray piped up from the seat opposite, "looks like a dyke to me."

"Ray, honestly! That's got nothing to do with the music." Shaz's tone lowered after her first exasperated statement, swiftly realising she was fighting a losing battle trying to educate Ray in the basic morals of not judging a book by its cover. "Anyway, it's androgyny."

"Oh ey," Ray pointed his thumb towards Shaz whilst flicking a glance in Chris's direction, "she's swallowed a dictionary again."

Chris kept his head down, saying nothing.

"It's the fashion," Shaz continued, "in case you hadn't noticed." The beginnings of a smirk crept up onto her lips as she appraised Ray's appearance, his favourite leather jacket reliably in place. "Although, it's fairly obvious that you haven't."

A chorus of impressed jeers rang out, and predictably, Ray took immediate offence.

"Oi, there's nothing wrong with the way I dress!"

"And when was the last time you had a date with a woman that lasted longer than the time it takes to finish a pint and a packet of pork scratchings?" Shaz added on sweetly before going on a sweep of the mugs laying about the desks.

"She's got a point, mate."

Chris chanced a hopeful smile towards Shaz as she stopped by him, and felt less deflated than he had done recently when she gave him a small smile in return, even if she did leave ten seconds later.

"Hey, I think there might still be a chance," he said in a low voice, leaning over the desk.

"You what?"

"With Shazza," Chris explained to a blank-faced Ray. "I've heard she's seeing this posh bloke, but she doesn't look happy after she's been out with him. Not like she was when...you know." The longer he talked, the further he convinced himself. "And she smiled at me just then. Like, properly smiled. I really think I'm getting somewhere."

Files in hand, Ray cast a glance up at Chris, just to appease him in all his enthusiasm. Swiftly, he brought him back down to earth with a bump.

"Twonk."

As the rest of CID bickered and sniggered at their own jokes, Alex raised her hands to her temples, hoping that she could rub away the headache that was rapidly getting worse as the afternoon stretched on. Momentarily she deeply regretted having got out of bed at all that morning and wished she could sneak away unnoticed and crawl back to her flat, pouring herself a glass of red to blot out the day from hell. Except it wasn't just one day lately, and that meant she was at serious risk of developing a certifiable drink problem – not to mention a liver blitzed beyond all repair - if she turned again and again to the same solution.

There came a particularly raucous explosion of laughter from a couple of desks away, and Alex used it to disguise her deep sigh of frustration. This arson case was getting nowhere fast, evidence was scarce and worst of all, the humongous creep that was Jim Keats was hanging around like a bad fart after a dodgy curry, perennially niggling and gnawing away, convincing the mind that it could all turn into something much worse without a minute's notice.

 _Shit_ , she'd been around Gene so much that she was starting to adopt his oh-so-pleasant metaphors like second nature.

"Cup of tea, ma'am?" Shaz interjected in the whirlwind that was her mind, waggling a mug in front of her face.

"That'd be lovely, Shaz, thank you," she managed a genuine smile, the feeling foreign. "Although truth be told, I could do with something much stronger."

Shaz laughed in recognition. "Well, it is five o'clock somewhere in the world."

Alex sighed heavily. "And it can't come soon enough here."

The whirring of the kettle was soundly drowned out by the blaring radio, and Alex unhappily returned to her thoughts after the unexpected yet welcome distraction. For that reason, amongst others, Shaz was still her favourite.

And then, in the midst of everything else, there was Gene.

With all the will in the world and all of her previous experience she had never been able to work him out. Perhaps it was the challenge that kept her going, gave her something to focus on in this existence. She'd been on the verge so many times, thought she had everything about him figured out, and then on the turn of a pin he'd be compelled to go and bugger it up, do something she'd never expected. Did she really know what she expected of him? All bluster and bravado when they were out in the field, crude remarks about some aspect of her physical appearance when they were sharing a bottle or several of house rubbish in Luigi's, something altogether different – dare she even think _vulnerable_ – when it was just the two of them, upstairs in her flat.

Why was she even thinking about it? It was all pointless. It hadn't been just the two of them for months, not since she had received a bullet square in the stomach. He hadn't meant it, she knew that much. She believed him when he insisted that it had been a mistake. She believed him, in spite of all of the forces that were screaming at her to do the exact opposite. The files from Manchester and Sam Tyler's personal effects had resulted to nothing but a guilty feeling that plagued her from day to night and she knew that Gene was onto her about it. While it stood that things didn't add up about Sam's sudden disappearance and subsequent death the doubts that she had let be planted in her head were diminishing by the hour, enough by the minute and second. Gene Hunt was capable of many things, a lot of them irresponsible, but murder was not one of them. She knew that; she knew him.

At least, she wanted to believe that she did.

Things were off between them, and she took her part of the blame for the sorry situation. Telling him that she was from the future had always been a terrible move, even if he had tore it from her by telling her to talk _if he meant anything to her at all_. It had all but confirmed her as an escapee from the nearest asylum in his eyes. Now she was insisting on playing with fire when her fingers had already been burnt, repeatedly. She regretted having been in touch with Manchester for more information; she wouldn't put it on Shaz but she'd send it all back with the first chance she got.

 _Unbreakable_ ; that's what they were. It had been touch-and-go for a while, but a misfired bullet and a coma-within-a-coma hadn't broken them. She was damned if she would let someone as insignificant as Jim Keats cause the cracks to strengthen. She had accepted this world rather than explained it – even if the very concept of going with the flow without getting to the centre of it all pissed her off more than anything – and one thing remained. Gene Hunt was her constant, and she needed him to see whatever it all meant right through to the bitter end. If she was brutally honest with herself, she needed him for much more than that.

Without realising she rested her head down on her desk, her eyes closing drowsily and almost beyond her control. In an instant it was though she had been transported from the walls of Fenchurch East to the hospital bed she had occupied not too long ago, not that she had much recollection of the time or would trust herself much if she did.

The only thing she was able to make out from the blackness that surrounded her was his voice, the rough quality of it strangely soothing. He had sounded desperate, she recalled; as desperate as he was willing to reveal to her.

 _Wake up. Come back to me, I need yer! Drake. Alex. Alex! Wake up!_

"But what do you need me _for_ , Gene?" she said to herself, repeating the words through her haze, in the absence of being able to say them out loud.

Her awakening in that particular moment came in the almighty crash of a door meeting a defenceless wall, and out he emerged, a disgruntled lion lured from his den.

"Two things," he started, not looking in the least bit personable. "First, 'ooever started that racket can shut it off pronto before I take the sodding aerial and shove it very sharply where the sun don't shine."

In Shaz's absence, Chris reached an arm over and swiftly silenced the radio, causing a larger silence to fall over the occupants of CID.

Gene failed to acknowledge the action, fixing a hardened glare at one very specific point in the room. _Oh joy_ , Alex thought.

"Lastly; Drake," he barked, eyes of steel boring a hole into her, "My office. Now."

Alex pulled herself from her seat, resisting the strong urge to roll her eyes as she made her way once more towards the Guv's revered personal territory.

"If he shuts the blinds, we know it's goin' down. Or rather, Drake will be," Ray chuckled, thoroughly amused by his smutty insinuation. He looked towards Chris, who was completely oblivious. "A fiver says they'll be at it, and she'll be carried out on a stretcher afterwards... owww, Jesus Christ!"

A slosh of freshly-brewed tea flew from the mug and landed inches away from DI Carling's groin.

"Sorry, Ray," Shaz chirped, a perfect picture of innocence. "My hand slipped."

Gene banged the door shut behind them, though he kept his hands away from the blinds. Alex stood firm on the spot, watching him as he rounded the desk and poured himself a measure of scotch. For all her soul-searching she was going to stay stubborn on this one; he was the one to invite her in, and seeing as the case hadn't moved along since their last trip out a couple of hours ago she hadn't the first clue to what this summons could be about. Unless, of course, he just wanted to shout the odds at her as a way of relieving some tension.

Another method of achieving the same results briefly crossed her mind as she observed his long legs crossing at the ankles upon the top of his desk, but she quickly chased that away. It _really_ wasn't the time for those thoughts and she should have left them behind long ago, but damn it, she just couldn't shake him off. It had been too long; maybe she just needed to pick some random bloke out after work one night and resolve her fantasies that way. It'd help if he happened to be northern or at least willing to act the part.

His glass came down with a resounding echo and she felt herself flinching, barely perceptible, as he straightened himself out.

" 'ave you looked in the mirror recently?"

Well, that wasn't exactly what she was expecting.

"No," she replied curtly. "Why?"

He huffed at her response; perhaps he had expected more of a fight from her. Times really had changed. "Because, Lady B, at present you 'ave a face that resembles a smacked arse." He ignored the loud tut she exhaled and went on. "I've got enough on my plate right now without 'aving to deal with your mood swings an' all."

She looked at him, arms folded against her as she stayed rooted. She was aware she was causing his blood pressure to rise further with each passing second but she got a perverse kick out of not giving anything to him, at least for a peaceful minute.

"So it's the silent treatment now, is it, Bols? Dunno what I prefer more out of that an' you chewin' me ear off insistently."

She smirked a little. "You're a saint, Guv. I'm sure they're polishing your halo as we speak."

He raised his eyebrows in indignation. "Now you are bloody jokin'." Alex watched him raise the glass to his lips again, pausing before he slugged down the rest of its contents in one go. "Yer not usually backwards in comin' forwards. Come on, Bollykecks, spit it out. 'avent got all day."

Alex stood taller on her heels, not daring to break gaze with him. It might not have been quite their old style, but it was a good stand-off all the same and she felt her energy renewing for it.

"You're right, we are on the line with this one," she rounded, not swerved by the 'no-shit-Sherlock' expression written upon his face. "Keats is circling us like a vulture, ready to strike whenever he sees that we're in the least bit exposed."

"Don't like the idea of that, Bols," he scoffed. "Not that I've got anythin' to worry about in that department. Jimbo on the other hand...well I reckon a mouse could out-do 'im."

She went on, refusing to let her stride be put off by his point-scoring. "And we're not doing so well at the moment, not when the only evidence is against _us_ by way of police brutality towards a witness."

He stared at her in confusion for a moment or two before the penny dropped.

"Yer not still on about that little scrote Wright, are ya? Christ, it's not like I've sent 'im down for a ten-year stretch on bread an' water. A few hours in a cell until 'e's pleadin' for mercy and cryin' for 'is mam, an' 'e'll be as right as rain. Nothin' wrong with a bit of tough love, isn't that what you lot call it?"

Alex couldn't believe what she was hearing, even if it was 1983 and it was Gene Hunt's policing methods that were being discussed.

"He's twelve years old, Guv!"

"Yes, yer 'ave told me about two million times, Bols. In my book that's old enough to know better." He gave her a lingering look, and if she didn't know better she'd say that she saw concern in the depths of his eyes. "Anyway, I dunno why yer so concerned about 'is welfare, 'e was being an annoyin' little bastard, especially to you."

"That's besides the point, and it's also perfectly typical behaviour from adolescent boys," she replied, doing her utmost not to reveal that she was almost touched by his misplaced attempts to defend her honour. "Their first defence is to deflect, especially to figures of authority. You just have to ignore it and keep to the line of questioning."

"Not sure I need tips from you, Bolly," he interjected. "I am the DCI after all."

DCI or not, he wasn't going to shut her up, not when he was acting like a twelve year old himself.

"I was actually getting somewhere with him, before you saw fit to intervene with brute force."

"Well, if it ain't broke," he reached for the bottle again, bringing a clean glass out of one of his drawers. "What you need to calm down and see sense, Lady B, is a drop of the good stuff."

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling; God, it really was hard work sometimes, though it didn't help that they were both as stubborn as each other.

Replaying the interview room scenario in her head, as she was prone to do in the search for the slightest scrap of information, it suddenly occurred to her the exact moment when Gene had lost his rag completely and particularly the comment that Barney Wright had made. She could have burst into laughter about it, and simultaneously berated herself for not spotting it sooner. It really was utterly textbook.

At the same time, she found her deepest fantasies roaring to life within her once more with the same power as the Quattro's engine.

Unable to keep the smile from curving her lips, she placed both of her palms flat on the edge of his desk as he poured out a measure into both glasses.

"Children are often the most insightful of witnesses," she said, carefully and deliberately. "We dismiss the things they say offhand but they show the keenest observation."

For his part, Gene was not the least bit fazed, sipping his scotch and waiting for her to get to the bloody point.

Alex placed one leg in front of the other, sauntering her way slowly from the front to the side of his desk.

"And Barney did make some very good observations," she reached her arm languidly to the cut-crystal, lifting her glass and placing the rim tentatively to her bright red lips. "I don't think his questions should be ignored, not when they are so valid."

His pout suddenly shifted as she perched herself on the edge of the desk, mere inches away from him. If he angled himself just a little bit, he'd have an amazing view down the front of her blouse.

"About yer bra size? The lad is only human."

Alex noticed him wriggling in his seat, leaning forward and putting the weight back onto his feet.

"Yer never did tell me whether you were a C or D cup," he continued, making his intentions blatantly obvious. "Think I'd need another close-up appraisal to be sure. Maybe when things are quieter and Jimbo has buggered off for good we could arrange an identity parade. Give me somethin' to look forward to."

She simply smirked, arching her back and downing the rest of her scotch, even though it burned against her throat. Before she got up again she noticed the impressed bob of Gene's head towards her.

Walking back to where she started, she placed her hands firmly in her pockets. Time to get to it, she thought, perhaps in more ways than one.

"Don't you think he has a point, Gene?" She used his first name deliberately, delighting in the way she stretched it upon her tongue. "I mean, if a twelve year old can sense it, it must be fairly obvious."

"Yer losing me again, Bolly," he said gruffly, the mark of frustration. "Which is not unusual."

She suppressed the urge to sigh heavily, or otherwise launch herself over the desk and snog his face off.

"You and me," she spelt it out, so that he could be in no doubt. "And sex."

It reverberated, bouncing off every surface in the room and echoing against her ribcage as her heart beat a heavy rhythm. It wasn't often that Gene Hunt was dumbfounded, but on this occasion Alex took no satisfaction from it. Instead she felt vaguely nauseous, racked with nerves as she waited for him to accept or decline. He prided himself on slamming straight to the point, with everyone else but her.

He quickly recovered, and she could see the walls rebuild themselves right in front of her eyes.

"Steady on, Bols. You may be a tart, but I'm not that type of bloke."

"I don't know why I hadn't thought of it sooner. It's basic psychology."

"Oh, give me 'alf a chance at least. No quicker way to take down the flagpole than bringing the psycho-bollocks into it."

She stopped pacing for a moment, her eyes flicking briefly to his before raising to the ceiling once more. "Getting it out both of our systems." God knows she'd pent up too much of whatever _it_ was over the last couple of years and it was affecting her in all kinds of peculiar ways. Such as suggesting the blatant offer of a shag to the Guv. "All that prolactin and serotonin, it'd calm so much of the aggression."

Alex pursed her lips, assured in her knowledge of the human body while he continued to stare at her. His eyes were really terrifically blue, pools she could submerge herself in. _Was drowning a better method of dying than taking a bullet to the brain?_

"And what'd it do for you, Bolly?" There was a genuine curiosity in his voice, as if he'd given thought to what he might do for her a thousand times or more. It sent a shiver careening down her spine, settling somewhere a little further.

Her expression hardly moved, and she hoped that her display of nonchalance was working.

"I'm not sure I can think off the top of my head, but there'd be lots of benefits."

He lifted his arms from his desk, languidly stretching in his chair so much that she was able to notice every sinew and fibre, his pulse throbbing in his neck and the buttons of his shirt straining against his chest. _Bloody hell, he knows how to take the piss._ He rose to his feet, standing like a tower again, and Alex willed herself to keep breathing in through her mouth, keeping herself steady. She could have had her pick, if this world really was of her own making, and that she'd elected to become so infatuated with Gene Hunt was the strongest sign she had that it wasn't her creation after all.

"Dunno," he muttered, simply, infuriatingly. "The way you're goin' on, it's as though a bit of slap an' tickle is the answer to everythin' in the universe."

Not for the first time and certainly not the last, his attitude had made her see red.

"My god, how old are you? You can say the word, Gene!" Her cheeks were blazing, her breath caught in her throat as she shouted herself near-hoarse. She stepped closer, so much that she was almost toe-to-toe with him, red leather nudging snakeskin. "Say it. It's not that hard."

He scoffed, the warmth of his cigarette-and-whisky stained breath breezing upon her face, hands planted firmly in the pockets of his trousers.

"It isn't anymore, Bols."

She wouldn't let him defeat her challenge, angling her neck that bit higher.

" _Say it_ ," she persisted. "Sex. Hot, frantic, absolutely mindless sex."

His eyes held with hers, his hand near enough to push her sharply back if he so wanted.

A smirk curved her lips at the corners. "Just one night. No strings, no questions or answers. That's all it is." For this moment, she would fool herself that was all it would be, purely to gain a victory over him. "Just sex. What do you say?"

It was the longest he had stayed silent, the look he was fixing her with in the absence of his words partly unreadable to her. There was something in his eyes, a flicker, and she wouldn't believe that it was softening the steel. However briefly she glimpsed it, the voice that she had banished to the back of her mind told her that she'd only ever seen him looking that way once before. He'd looked away from her, for a split second.

"You know, Bolly," he said after an eternity had seemed to have passed, "you've had a lot of fruitcake ideas in yer time."

She held her breath; _this may finally be what kills her_.

"But I'd say that this is the worst of them all."

Her heart sunk within her chest, though she hadn't known what she had been expecting. A year ago, six months even, it might have been different. They had fallen too far, divided in the unbearably close proximity where they stood.

Alex went back on her heels, her gaze directed at the floor so he wouldn't notice the tears that were springing to her eyes. Why she should feel so wretched she had no idea, or rather, she wished she hadn't. Amnesia would have been ideal, but unfortunately it couldn't be brought on.

"Let's forget I ever said anything," she said when she felt strong enough to look him in the eyes again. "We've got other things to focus on, haven't we?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly, swigging from the glass he held delicately in his grasp.

"I'll take a closer look at Nigel Trueman. Chris might be able to dig something out of the files, he's getting better at that."

She had the sense that she might as well have been talking to the wall, watching him for the faintest notion that he was paying any attention to her as he leaned against the edge of his desk, ankles crossed. She was about to turn to the door before his voice stopped her in her tracks, a faint air of hope possessing her.

"If you really want to get yer juices flowing again, there's someone close by 'oo'd be more than 'appy to oblige."

As though knowing he was being referred to, the shadow of Jim Keats transpired beyond the blinds, a devilish smile crossing his smug face. Her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat. It was just as though the gun had been fired again, the bullet piercing her skin without mercy, stinging intensely where she believed she had grown numb. Gene finished off his glass, half-turned from her as she was close to breaking to her knees before him. How could he even dare to think? _Quite easily, I presume_.

He hung his head as she silently dared him to look at her again. Once more, he didn't accept.

"Get out, Drake," he uttered quietly, rather than bellowing the command. It made it all the worse. "Go."

"With pleasure, Guv."

She left the door rattling behind her, blocking out Shaz's cries of "Ma'am?" the best she could, holding her hand over her mouth until she got to the bathroom. She wretched for a while, the cloying smell of disinfectant hitting the back of her throat.

When there was nothing more, she put the lid back into its place and slowly lowered herself to sit, eyes pinned to the back of the closed cubicle door. _Don't you dare. You're stronger than this._

 _You're the best of them, Alex. It's not fair._

 _No, no, he'll come around. He knows he can trust me. He cares about me._

Her hand went up to her temple, wanting to stop the ceaseless voices in her head, her own most of all. Keats and Summers merged into one, until she could no longer tell them apart.

 _Look what he's done to you._

 _You're alone, Alex. It's over._

For the first time in months, and acknowledging everything she'd lost – including her own sanity – Alex Drake cried.

* * *

She made herself go to Luigi's in some misguided attempt to save face but couldn't stay to finish one solitary glass. Ray muttered something about it being her time of the month, but she didn't have the energy to raise two fingers towards him. She didn't even cast a glance back at the team as they sat huddled round the two same tables. Gene had kept his distance from her all night, and though she told herself that she didn't care, that he could stay sulking like an overgrown child for the rest of eternity for all she was bothered, the ache in the middle of her chest that expanded every time she thought about him told her otherwise.

Her throat was still killing her as she unscrewed the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc she'd bought as a treat. Making her way through half of it, alone with only the television for company, she tormented herself with unwelcome thoughts. Her solitude hadn't fazed her in 2008. She had Molls, she had Evan. Here, she pretended she could get by, but in truth she was so bloody needy.

 _Screw him. I don't need anyone, least of all Gene bloody Hunt._

Why didn't he want her? There was a time when she could have offered herself on a plate in that scrap of material that passed as a dress and his trousers would have been off quicker than you could say 'armed bastards'. A lot of shit had happened, and perhaps it had all been too much. Bolly and the Guv – done and dusted, with a single gunshot and a ghost from a past she knew nothing about.

She laughed bitterly, her eyes drooping as she placed the bottle down, teetering on the worktop. Somehow she managed not only to take her suit pants off as she headed towards the bedroom but avoided tripping up over them too. She clicked her fingers. _Still got it._

 _Don't listen to them, Alex. You'll be just fine_.

With the wine coating her tongue and humming in her head, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Her mouth was covered by his, his arms pinning her in place against the wall. She breathed heavily through blistering kisses, her fingers losing dexterity as she hitched her skirt up over her thighs. His pout turned into a wicked smile while he glared at her, hair all dishevelled from her hands.

"Tell me, Bolly," he growled, his hands working their way up her body. "Want to 'ear it from that posh gob of yours."

"I want you, Gene."

He pressed in closer to her, and she repressed a whimper feeling the unmistakable rigid bulge in his trousers. Her hips flexed of their own accord, her gaze on fire as she looked up at him.

"Dirty mare," he said, capturing a half-exposed breast in his palm. She couldn't help herself, moaning at his touch. "You sure about that? Because 'alf the time I don't know if you want to shag me or kill me..."

"For God's sake, Gene, please! I want you," her hands dived down, undoing his belt buckle with haste. "I want you inside me, now."

She would have cringed at the words she had just uttered at any other time, but her desire for him was at tipping point.

He chuckled before letting his trousers fall to his ankles, revealing his amazing organ. "About bloody time."

She let out a gasp as he lifted her leg over his hip, kissing her fiercely again.

" 'old on tight, Bollykecks."

He filled her with one swift stroke, and she clawed at his back, crying into his shoulder and inhaling his man-stink as he claimed her over and over again, her head spinning with the most intense pleasure she'd ever known.

"Oh god, Gene." Her voice was reaching a higher pitch as she crested a wave of pure ecstasy, not giving a toss of who was outside to hear them. "Harder, please..."

Harder, faster, until she was spiralling into oblivion.

"Gene! Yes, oh god..."

"Bolly, fuckin' hell," he groaned, his mouth next to her ear as he pressed her tighter against the wall, hands drawing her hips ever closer to his. " _Alex..."_

Before she could get there she woke with a start, not being shagged perilously near a filing cabinet in his office but sprawled on her back lying against her blood-red sheets. With one hand resting upon her forehead, her other wandered beneath the sheets and between her legs, sighing with deep frustration as she encountered the flood of moisture.

"Damn you, Gene Hunt," she cursed out loud, knowing that she'd need to finish off what the image of him had started, her subconscious apparently not letting her have any say in the matter.

Her subconscious was such a stubborn bitch that she ended up having the same or strikingly similar dream for nights on end.

* * *

It had been deathly quiet the last few days, with only a couple of petty thefts to occupy them – hardly the crimes of the century. Even Keats hadn't seen fit to poke his nose in, keeping himself locked away in his makeshift office.

Gene eyed her as she sauntered down the corridor, readying herself for another day looking after overdue paperwork, and he hadn't missed the unusually wide smile on her face.

"Washing machine, Bols?"

Alex smirked, folding her arms against her. "Actually, I find that a rabbit does the job much better."

His look of puzzlement was something to behold. "Do I even want to know what Bugs Bunny's got to do with yer bits an' bobs? Or is this another of yer weird fetishes?"

She bit back a laugh while she looked at him straight in the eyes. "You never need be any the wiser, Guv. Trust me on that."

Little did he know that she'd spent the previous hours dreaming of him, her and the back seat of the Quattro – which had taken her by surprise somewhat, she'd always imagined it would be the bonnet, but then Gene was still Gene in her sleep-altered mind and wouldn't stand for any arses on his precious car, even if the one in question was hers. His gaze was raking over her uncompromisingly and she flustered where she stood, shifting on her heels so that she didn't give the game away completely. If she wasn't careful she'd have to make another dash to the loo, just so she could go on with the rest of her day with some semblance of normality.

He piped up again, apparently not caring that the rest of CID were on the other side of the door. "No shortage of Thatcherite wankers around now. I thought yer'd be takin' advantage."

"Learned my lesson, Guv. Full of false promises, not exactly something a girl wants."

"Sounds about right," he huffed in amusement. "Well it's good to know you'll 'ave yer mind on the job and not in the gutter, Lady B, even if yer need to rope in the cast of Watership Down to see to it."

 _Oh, Gene_. She smiled sweetly and said nothing more, being assured that he wouldn't cross the boundaries between her waking and dreaming worlds. Yet another dimension to contend with; it was all getting very complicated.

"You were right though, Bolly," he announced, draping himself against the wall.

For a moment she thought she was back in a state of REM. "Has someone spiked your full English, or is my hearing going?"

He scoffed. "Charmin'. I mean about the fundamentals of psychiatry."

Her eyes cast themselves upwards. "Honestly, I could be here for twenty years and it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference..."

"Andy Smith turned into a pyromaniac because 'is wife was 'avin it off with his brother."

Alex tutted. "I think there was a little more to it than that, Guv. Like PTSD, for one thing."

Jesus, even Ray had figured that one out. No, that was unfair – she was doing Ray a disservice, he had genuinely connected with Andy and the whole case. Since its resolution something had shifted in him, and though it had seemed to have happened overnight with little explanation Alex was glad to have witnessed it.

"Still remains though, Bols," Gene went on, waxing lyrical about his newly-discovered theory. "All the shit that 'appens is because of three things."

He held out his fingers to demonstrate.

"Sex, money and pride."

Gene Hunt turning into a psychologist? Wonders would never cease. His thinking was rough, but she had to concede that he did have a point, if they were working on the principle of boiling matters down to the absolute minimum. As she held her gaze steadily with his, not daring to comeback with any expanded theories of her own, she had to wonder what the driving force would be behind his own motives. Possibly sex, though she had to stop flattering herself that he'd commit grievous acts due to seething jealousy over someone else ravishing her body. He wouldn't have turned down an extra bit of cash here and there, but it wasn't his main motivation.

Which left pride. That was deeply significant to a man as Alpha as Gene. He hated being taken for a mug – she knew that much from firsthand experience – and the nit-picking presence of Keats was irritating him to the point that she genuinely feared he might snap some day soon, turning the tables on himself with only a second's thought. Sam Tyler had been clever, in ways that Gene might have been considered to be lacking. Perhaps he had got too good, caught too many collars with his modern thinking, pissed Gene off no end with the suggestion that he might just be the one to take the crown after so many years of it going uncontested...

 _No, she promised herself that she wouldn't go down that road any more. She didn't need to know the ins and outs of it. Gene was innocent. He had to be._

 _If he wasn't, everything she held dear would be torn to shreds. Then where would that leave her?_

His lips parted slowly, and Alex shook herself when she realised that she had been staring at them for longer than was necessary.

"Don't say I don't appreciate yer, Bols," he drawled, sending the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. "And not just for that pretty face and scrawny arse of yours."

So they were back to it. Teasing, fighting, ignoring one another for a while and then submitting to a degree as the electricity between them sparked anew. The cycle would go on another revolve, and Alex was almost a hundred per cent certain that this limbo would persist until both of them were too defeated to cause any real shift of the axes this world was balanced on.

She supposed there were worse situations to be in.

Shaz burst through the door from CID, quickly puncturing the tension that was crackling in the air.

"Guv, Ma'am, something's just come through. Suspected abduction, and it's not a one-off."

Alex let out a sigh, planting her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looking desolate.

"Paint on a smile, Bollykecks," Gene commanded, allowing her a moment of contemplation before yanking her by the wrist. "We've got scum to catch."

* * *

 **A/N: _Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)_ written by Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart. I could hardly go for any other song, timeline wise and plot wise (and Eurythmics are brilliant).**

 **Keeping to a T rating (for now), although I'm not responsible for Alex's subconscious ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited so far! It's given me a real boost of confidence - and I'm very much enjoying writing the Fenchurch East gang. Without further ado, here's the next instalment...**

* * *

Chapter 2

She hardly dreamt of Molly anymore. When she did it was in fleeting glimpses; her feet in their Converse trainers as they skipped along, her hair blowing in the breeze before she got sucked up amongst the crowds on Millennium Bridge. Her little girl, lost.

She sought her out, running as fast as she was able, legs burning.

Molls, where are you? Come on. You know I was never good at hide and seek. I'd never have to let you win, you were always too clever for me.

 _Her laugh rung out, and sent tears springing to her mother's eyes; she couldn't be too far away._

Don't give up on me, Molls. I know it's been a while and I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I promise I'm coming back. I'm coming back for you.

 _Those feet, moving like a blur, sprinting too fast for her to keep up._

Her arms reached out, hands grabbing at air for the lack of her precious daughter.

Believe me. Please. I haven't forgotten you, Molls. Please, don't forget me.

She was back in that dark room, feeling like a spotlight had been placed upon her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she'd never given it a second thought back then, but it was weird when the shoe was on the other foot.

The session always went the same way. She was making no progress and they both knew it, yet they persisted. The therapist wasn't unkind, but the scrutiny in her eyes made Alex want to turn away, lash out. What right did she have to peer into the depths of her mind, tear it to shreds, try to tell her that none of it was real? All this psycho-bollocks doesn't make sense half the time, anyway.

 _Are you still hearing voices?_

No.

That one was easy enough.

The therapist wore a sliver of a smile, scribbling a note, disbelieving.

She knew what was coming. This time she'd answer; if she lied, maybe she would stop. Dream about Molly again instead. Her little girl who needed her above everything and everyone else.

 _And are you dreaming about him?_

She didn't fight the urge to look down into her lap, her impulses and her body betraying her. It was doing that a lot these days. She saw herself sprawled out, heard herself moan in desperation. Gene was over her, fully-dressed in coat, gloves and all. If she had ever thought that he would be her wildest fantasy...

She pushed her naked hips upwards, whining when she felt the stroke of leather against the bare skin of her waist. The other cupping her cheek. He didn't take her hard and fast, not this time; instead he smiled down at her, before placing the tenderest kiss she had ever known upon her lips.

 _Alex?_ _Are you dreaming about Gene Hunt?_

That had never happened before; her repeating the question, and calling him by his name. Perhaps that was the plan, to shock her out of her guardedness. Or maybe she just appreciated the honesty.

Endlessly.

On occasion others did feature in her dreams. Chris, Shaz and Ray, having a tea-party for some inexplicable reason. Maybe she was Alice, always running late. We're all mad here.

There was someone else too, a Mancunian who was more softly-spoken, and yet she never asked the question that perhaps she should.

 _You have to get out of your head, Alex. Stop questioning everything so much._

Aren't I the psychologist out of the two of us?

 _I'll give you that. But then we're not that different, are we? You could learn a thing or two from me. It doesn't always pay to go by the book._

This is weird. You seem so much more real now than in our sessions.

 _Who says I'm not?_

Because this is a dream. You're not really here, I'm making you up. You look like you've climbed out of _The Professionals_.

 _That came a bit afterwards, actually. And I don't think I could have carried off the '80s look as well as you._

Thanks, I try. Even if nothing is flattering.

This was actually insane. She was having a full-blown conversation with Sam Tyler in her sleep, as if he was sitting in the chair opposite her, both of them in her office, 2006 all over again.

Because you're dead. You can't be real.

 _He smiled, with the knowledge of something more._

Something that she couldn't get to.

 _Isn't it real if you can feel it? Really feel it, right in your gut. When you were shot – the second time, I mean – didn't you feel the pain? Didn't it hurt more?_

She screwed her eyes tighter.

Don't.

 _I'm sorry, Alex. You had more reason to go back than I did. It was tough for me to come to terms with as well. But then I felt so free. I promise you will too._

I didn't want this. I'm not like you. I didn't want this, but I'm stuck with it.

 _Only if you let yourself think that way. I know it's hard to break habits, but it's different here._

What are you laughing at?

 _Oh, nothing. I just never thought it would be possible, that there would be anyone who could take him on. You're his match. I'd say 'made in heaven', but I don't think you want to believe me just yet._

I don't think I have a choice. Not anymore. God, they'd write several books about me if they knew how mad I was.

 _You always have a choice. You have mine. I couldn't do it, Alex; it was too much, I was too scared. I always was, really. Scared and awed, all at once._

What do you mean?

 _I can't tell you, but you'll know. It's what you were meant for. I suppose that's why I could never bloody get on with it; he was waiting for you._

She sighed in frustration, unable to comprehend his words or her mind, perhaps for the rest of time.

 _Don't think about me, or what might have happened. Just focus on what's real, Alex. I'll see you soon. The both of you. Tell the Guv there's a pint waiting for him._

Seven o'clock had come too soon; the radio alarm clock wrenched her from the strange rabbit-hole that were her dreams.

# _Hold your head up, keep your head up  
Movin' on  
Hold your head up, movin' on#_

She groaned at the song that blasted around the room as she lifted her head from the pillow.

So much easier said than done.

* * *

"Once again, yer not listenin' to me, Bolly," his voice boomed around his office, affording no privacy whatsoever, "when I say I'm takin' you off the case, I _mean_ I'm takin' you off the case." He ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her momentarily. "As far as I'm aware I'm speakin' English and not gobbledegook, yet you have such a hard time comprehendin' time and bloody time again."

"Why should I, when _you_ won't bloody listen to me!" At the same time as she raised her voice louder, she stamped her heel down hard.

His eyes blazed at her, and yet he didn't move to interrupt.

"Guv, give me one good reason why I shouldn't be on this."

She was on the receiving end of another of his stares, becoming all the more intense the nearer he moved towards her. _He's got nothing, except his prehistoric attitude._

"Emotionally compromised," he said after a few moments of blissful silence. "In other words, yer too close to this for comfort."

She stuttered out a laugh in an attempt to hide her vulnerabilities, which despite her wanting to deny had been exposed in the full light of day thanks to this case.

Thus far there had been three kidnappings, the first two weeks ago and the second – the one which they had received the call about – five days later. The third followed three days after that. There must be some kind of pattern in the timing, she just couldn't figure it out yet. There was also a detectable theme in the gender of the children who were going missing. A boy first, then a girl, then another boy. No other similarities aside from that, and what was worse no suspects either. Whoever was responsible was keeping themselves well hidden, which was no mean feat in the middle of London.

There was no mistaking that this was something big, and though nothing terrible had happened so far it seemed to be only a matter of time. This was no inside job, not like what poor little Dorothy Blonde had found herself caught up in. She tried to keep Gene's theory out of her head, that every crime committed could be traced back to one determining factor out of a possible three that drove its perpetrator, and pleaded that he was severely wrong in this instance. She wasn't sleeping; all she could think about were these poor children who had been ripped without any rhyme, reason or wrongdoing from their parents' arms. All she could hear were their voices calling to her, begging her to help bring them home.

She pinched the bridge of her nose sharply, bringing herself back to the moment.

"I think that's exactly why I can make the breakthrough, Guv," she used his preferred name as a bargaining tool, "if you'll let me."

She was close to reaching her hand out, touching the sleeve of his jacket, but she refrained. Deep down within her she knew that tactic wouldn't work. If he wasn't willing to let her in when she had gotten as close to him as she possibly could, there was not a chance in hell of it now – not when there was still such a gulf between them.

He shook his head while she remained looking doe-eyed towards him. "I've 'eard some cracked thinking in my time, Bols, but this without doubt takes the biscuit."

"Well, nobody else is coming up with anything, are they?" She threw both arms out from her sides. "In desperate times I don't think that being 'cracked' is such a bad thing."

She hadn't pulled out the air quotes in such a long time, and she was aware that they rankled him.

"God 'elp me," Gene grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face, "one day I might actually get a DI who does what I say!"

"And I suppose you'll shoot them if they don't?"

There was a flash of hurt – she wanted to say – in his eyes, and a smirk on the face of another who had saw fit to creep inside the very slightly open door.

"I didn't mean that," Alex said softly, drawing closer when she felt brave enough to do so. "Heat of the moment."

He grunted, which she took to be an acceptance of her awkwardly phrased apology.

She let out a sigh before she began again. "I know why you think I can't handle this, and I'm grateful for that."

Her voice had lowered, so that only Gene was able to hear her appraisal. Really she wanted to say more, but it wasn't the time or the place and she didn't have anywhere near the amount of alcohol that was needed in her system. She never talked about Molly anymore, not that she had said all that much to begin with, but it was how she had needed to survive.

"But I can tell you," she continued, her tone firmer again, "I am capable."

She wasn't able to focus on Gene's steadfast stare for very long, not when Jim Keats saw fit to step outside the shadowy corner of the office he had occupied.

"That's right, Alex. Stand strong. Don't let him control you."

She turned slowly to meet his gaze, finding it deeply uncomfortable that she had already known that he was watching her and had been all the while.

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Sir, but I can fight my own battles."

"Listen to the lady, Jimbo," Gene followed, "please do piss off. And I _do_ mean that disrespectfully."

To her ears it sounded as if he hissed before he left the room, leaving them rightfully alone.

"I don't like this, Bols," he muttered, "especially not when 'e's sniffin' about."

"Forget about Keats," she said. _This is about you and me, she wanted to say._ She looked him square in the eyes, not letting herself be swerved. "I can do this. I _have_ to do this. Please, Guv."

She had poured her heart into her plea, and short of getting down on her knees and polishing his boots there was little else she could do. She just had to hope that he could still see that far into her. Her eyes were pinned to him as he raised his chin, the pout on his face seconds away from faltering.

"Alright Bolly, no need to beg," he conceded. "But if I so much as sense that you may be about to throw a wobbler then you'll be stuck dealin' with parking fines for the rest of the year."

"I won't let you down, Guv. We'll get them quicker than you can say 'fire up the Quattro'."

"Let's not be too hasty, Bols."

She departed leaving him with a glass in his hand, and wore a sombre smile on her face. If she couldn't get back to her daughter – and the prospect seemed more and more helpless with each passing day – then she would help to heal the hearts of others who had broken, so there would be a few less like her own.

 _This one's for you, Molls._

Before she could round the corner out of CID, the figure of Jim Keats appeared again, blocking her pathway. He smelt of some combination of aromas she couldn't put her finger on, but they cloyed at the back of her throat and made her want to gag.

"You did very nicely back there, Alex. Standing up to Hunt like that. You know that the others are cowards, wouldn't go against their Guv for anything." He did that same wry smile, the one he only ever aimed at her. "But you're different. You can _make_ a difference."

"I wasn't standing up to him," she corrected, "I was making my point. Now if you don't mind, Sir, I've got leads to follow up."

She tried pushing past him but he gave no right of way. It made her cringe to come into the slightest bit of physical contact with him.

"I think it's insulting the way he talks to you. Calling you those silly nicknames, all based around your willingness to be sexually available." His eyes raked all the way down to her red boots, and she felt more demeaned in that moment than she had in two years of standing at Gene's side. "His are the attitudes we have to get rid of if we want the police force to make any progress. I imagine you'd agree, Alex, being a feminist."

She shrugged, feeling too powered up over the case to have another conversation full of riddles. "What someone says and what they do are two different things. Or so I've come to realise."

"Very philosophical. I'm not sure I share your opinion, but each to their own."

He made one step to the side, leaving her just enough room to squeeze past him.

"I think you need to change your perspective, Sir," she said, stopping to look at him before she went on her way. "It takes a while to understand him, but once you do then you might start to understand some things about yourself too."

There was a moment of deathly silence before he began to laugh manically. A cold shiver sliced its way through her, and yet she felt as though she was burning at the same time.

"You think he _understands_ you? Oh Alex, I thought you were better than that. I thought you were clever. I suppose a bullet counts for nothing these days." He paused, glancing away to the side. "And it wasn't the first time it's happened, either." He thrust out his bottom lip exaggeratedly and pretended to sniffle. "Oh dear, I've said too much."

She wouldn't listen, and there was not a chance she would be put off her stride; not when Molly was counting on her.

"I know you want to take him down, Sir, but I'm not going to be the one to do it. You'll have to find someone else." _And whoever they were, they'd have to get through her first._ "The Guv values loyalty, and I finally understand the importance of that." She couldn't keep the shake out of her voice as she spoke. "I'm not leaving him."

This was it; she had made her choice. She was only sorry that it hadn't happened sooner, and that Keats was the one to hear her say it out loud.

He looked rueful, wearing an iron mask that now she knew only too well.

"Your loss, Alex. I wanted to spare you, but that's how it goes." He tilted his head to the side, wearing a trace of a sinister smile. "Believe me, I will take Gene Hunt down. And now you'll have to burn in the ashes with him."

"Better the devil you know," she said plainly. "And I'm afraid I don't know you at all."

For some reason, he broke into a grin.

"You know where I am if you change your mind," he said, watching her as she walked away. "You could still have everything you've ever wanted back again."

Her heart contracted in her chest at the pause in her pulse.

 _He couldn't mean._

 _Molly._

 _It was impossible, and she had to come to terms with that._

"Don't worry, Sir," she shouted with renewed certainty, not needing to turn back towards the unnerving glare, "there'll be no chance of that."

* * *

 _She was there, finally; her little girl, standing in front of her, as clear as day. They were standing in a field, with what looked to be a farmhouse in the near distance. It was somewhere she didn't know, and yet she felt connected to the place. Rooted._

 _Probably because Molly was there, smiling wide. She was back with her little girl, even if she wasn't home. Home was wherever Molly was._

 _The scuffed pair of Converse stepped forward in the parched grass._

" _You have to go now, Mum."_

No. No, Molls, I've only just found you. I'm not going anywhere.

" _It's okay, Mum. I'm okay. Evan's looking after me. Dad's been spending more time with me, too. He said he'll take me to Florida with Judy."_

Tears had sprung to her eyes. She had cried herself to sleep before, many times, but had never cried _in_ her sleep.

Make sure he doesn't break the promise. Molls, oh sweetheart, this can't be it. I'm not ready.

" _You'll be okay, Mum. You can do anything."_

She smiled, despite her anguish.

You're such a brave girl, Molls. I fought so hard for you. You know that, don't you?

 _She nodded. Her hair was shorter now, not by much but she noticed all the same._

" _I'll miss you, Mum. And I'll think about you every day."_

I'll miss you too, my darling. More than you'll ever know.

She wished so much that she could hug her, but her body was paralysed.

" _I have to give you this."_

 _In her small hand, she passed over a single red balloon._

Oh, Molls, no.

" _And you have to find something out. Something important." She smiled again, and then started to sing. "I'm happy, hope you're happy too."_

No, Molls, not that. Please, no...

 _The car exploding before her eyes, the smoke filling her lungs. Gene coming to the rescue of her younger self, though it had been impossible._

" _Any problems, you just call the Gene-Genie."_

 _The red balloon floated to the sky as she let it slip from her fingers; the last thing that she had been given from her daughter, so carelessly gone._

I'm sorry, Molls. I'm so sorry.

She woke in the morning with tears stinging her eyes and the smell of smoke somehow clinging to her, several showers unable to take it away.

* * *

Alex sat slumped against the bar, the glass glued to her hand, sitting separated once more. It was incomprehensible, how everyone else could be laughing and joking when there were innocent and vulnerable children in such desperate need, needing Fenchurch East's finest to be their saviours against evil. Every lead had turned out to be a dead-end and they were being led a tortured dance. Even Shaz was joining in with the fun. She stopped trying to make sense of it and decided to get hammered instead; after a bottle and a half of red she was already halfway there. It wasn't the wisest decision with a case of this magnitude hanging over her head, but she couldn't come up with any other way of blotting out the pain.

The latest victim had been taken four days ago. A girl, as they had predicted. From a well-to-do background, she was home from boarding school for the holidays. She was the same age as Molly. Or at least, the same age that she remembered Molly as. _She might have been older now. She looked older in the dream that was recurring, forcing her to relive all the hurt and guilt and the worst agony she had known._

 _Saying goodbye night after night._

Letting her down day after day, the longer these children were kept away from their mums and dads, facing God knows what.

She clinked the bottle loudly against her glass, shaking it when no more wine appeared and then holding it to her eye and squinting.

"All gone!" she exclaimed, slamming the empty bottle down against the bar. Nowhere near enough yet.

Eyelids flickering beyond her control, she smiled seductively at the man behind the bar.

"Luigi, there's no wine left. Can I have a double whisky, please?" There was a slur in her voice as she spoke and she straightened herself on the stool in an attempt to shoo it away. "Actually, make that two." She held up two fingers in front of his face, and giggled naughtily when she realised which way they were facing. "Oh, I'm sorry Luigi, that's very rude of me. I don't possibly know where I get it from."

"Signorina Drake, I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled worriedly, "you have had too much to drink already this evening."

Alex flailed one hand in front of her, followed quickly by the other. "I'm a big girl, Luigi. I can handle it."

Through her protests she distinguished footsteps at her back, coming to a halt by her side. _See, she was still a good detective, wrecked or not. It actually gave her an added edge. After this she might go back to CID and spend the night going through files, cracking on while everyone else went for a kebab and then slept it off._

"Blimey, I've seen corpses dragged out the Thames that look in a better state than you do right now, Bolly."

"Gene!" she shrieked, leaning forth and nearly toppling from her seat, his outstretched arms holding her steady in place. "Come and have a drink with me. I've got one in for you."

She didn't notice the exchanged glance between the two men on either side of the bar.

"Sit down by me," Alex patted the empty stool next to her enthusiastically and smiled when he perched himself. "Let's have a toast." She raised an imaginary glass into the air. "To how shit everything is. Because that's what it is. That's what you said. It's all shit." She wobbled on her stool as she leaned closer towards him. "Isn't it, Gene?"

"Yeah, Bols," he affirmed after a few moments. "It's all shit."

A sharp clink of glass upon glass rang in her ears, the slam of one tumbler down on the bar and then less than a minute later it was followed by the other. She was finding it hard to keep track of the seconds, never mind the minutes, but she was pretty certain that not a drop of whisky had passed her lips.

"Right, drinks finished," Gene announced, slipping an arm around her waist. "Time to take you 'ome, Bollykecks."

"No! I want to stay!" Even in her less-than-comprehending state, it had dawned on her what he had done, and she fought against his grasp as he pulled her from the stool and onto her feet, turning himself into a crutch for her. "You always want to spoil my fun. You're such a bastard, Hunt!"

He huffed, gripping his arm tighter about her, virtually having to drag her along the floor seeing that her legs could barely keep her upright.

"I'll take that, Bols. Been called far worse over the years."

Not without effort, he had succeeded in getting her out of the restaurant before she started to ramble again, her fists aiming blows at his chest of which less than a quarter successfully met their target.

"The case...I need to get somewhere with it...I should go..."

She stumbled a step backwards, just missing hitting her back against the wall, and grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket.

"Nobody cares, Gene," she stuttered, the hope drained out of her voice. "Nothing's happening."

His hands clamped upon her shoulders, righting her where she stood, anchoring her.

"We're doing the best we can, Bolly," he stated firm, making her feel slightly admonished. She was aware of his voice, clear in her ear, and his touch still on her. "But you getting completely and utterly pissed out of that brainbox 'ead of yours is going to do sweet fuck all to 'elp matters! Do you 'ear me?"

She nodded slowly, fumbling a hand against his torso and pressing her other to her forehead, her temples already starting to thud heavily.

"Goin' to take all ruddy night to get you up those stairs yourself. Come on then, Madam Fruitcake."

Without any chance to protest she found herself hoisted from the ground, Gene's arms gripping beneath her thighs.

"Jesus, you've been packin' it away since yer got out the 'ospital," he wheezed, climbing one stair at a time. "Makin' up for lost time, Bols? Or are you a hundred per cent proof now?"

"Rude git," she mumbled against his neck, her limbs swiftly losing their dexterity.

He barricaded through the door to her flat, Alex relaxing now she was vaguely aware that she was home.

"Mmm, how many times have you swept me off my feet?" she asked giddily, her arm gripping tighter against Gene's shoulders.

"Too many times to count."

He gave the answer so low that she almost didn't catch it.

"Ooof!" she heard him heave as he deposited her on the bed. "My back's not goin' to thank me for that in the mornin'. You owe me, Bolly."

She muttered nonsense and mainly small, half-contented sounds, her eyes closed and oblivious to Gene standing awkwardly at the side of the bed, hands held in the air above her.

" 'ope yer alright with sleepin' in yer clothes," he said gruffly, adjusting the sheets around her. "I might be a lot of things but I'm not Florence bleedin' Nightingale."

Those words pulled themselves from the depths of her mind, reverberating loud against her ribcage. She'd heard them somewhere before; heard them come from his mouth.

 _I'm just 'ere to check that yer alright. Don't expect me to stay until you decide it's time to come round. I'm not Florence bleedin' Nightingale. Yer doing wonders for my reputation, Bollykecks._

He was there. At her bedside, she remembered now. More than once.

 _I've got to leave, Bolly. Dunno where yet, but out of 'ere at any road. Takin' a bloody liberty being 'ere with you right now. But I needed to make sure that you were alright. That you were alive. The others will look after yer. They'll 'ave no choice but to pull their socks up. I can't be sure, but I'm willin' to bet there's a bullet out there with my name bein' etched on to it as I speak. Just stop takin' the piss and wake up, sooner rather than later._

He kept his distance for most of the time; she couldn't have blamed him. She remembered her hand being lifted from the bed, his gloved fingers brushing her palm briefly.

 _I didn't mean it, Bols. I'd 'ope you know that, but after everything I said to yer I'm not so sure. But I didn't, I swear it. You've always needed lookin' after and I tried me best, but then you go all wibbly-wobbly on me, yer dozy mare._

A small squeeze of a couple of her fingers, and then he let her go.

 _Wake up, Alex. If yer won't do it for me, then do it for them. They're gonna need you. Come on, you weren't that shot._

 _Alex._

"Gene," she mumbled, being pulled deeper into sleep, her arms reaching beyond the covers.

"Bolly," he replied, watching her squirm, trying to fight the inevitable. "What is it, do yer want something? A glass of water? Not givin' you any more ruddy wine."

She turned onto her side, scrambling and hugging the pillow closer to her head. "I need to...need to look after her. Check she's alright."

He leaned closer over the bed, wondering if he should do something to stop her from moving about so frantically. She was going to hurt herself if she wasn't careful.

"Molly," she breathed, the small catch in her throat making it sound as if she were crying.

Taking the blood-red sheets into both of his hands, he tucked them around her gently.

"I know, I know," he whispered, unable to discern whether she could hear him. "Way of the world, Alex. She'll be fine."

Alex sighed, bobbing her head a few times in agreement against the pillow. After a minute or two, she was still.

* * *

 _They were running now, weapons firmly in hand, having discarded the Quattro halfway down the field. The suspect was in their sights, keeping the captive children at his side, and there was no doubt that he wouldn't be able to escape now._

 _After weeks of searching, they had him._

 _The weather-vane swayed to and fro, pointing in different directions._

" _You know the plan, Bolly," Gene told her, holding her back for a few seconds. "You distract the bastard and get the kids. I'll take care of the rest."_

 _She nodded, rising to her full height again, raring to go. "Let's do this, Guv."_

 _She watched as Gene rounded, getting in place behind the oblivious masked suspect. Her pace slowed as she approached the same man, standing fearlessly in the direct path of his gun as he aimed it towards her._

" _Let them go now, and the repercussions will be less." Her voice wavered slightly as he turned his weapon to the side, aiming at the youngest child who was shaking with fear. "Nothing will be solved by taking their lives. Whatever you've done, it's not their fault. Whatever you want, they shouldn't have to pay for it."_

 _The suspect stilled, and slowly withdrew, bringing his shooting arm back to his side. With a faint wave of his other hand, the children ran out towards Alex, a couple bawling loudly, the others with silent tears running down their cheeks. She gathered them one by one into her arms, pressing a kiss to the head of a girl with long dusty-blonde hair._

" _It's alright, you're safe," she reassured them, checking them over with her eyes for any visible signs of harm. "Go, go. We'll look after you, I promise."_

 _They ran past her, back towards the Quattro to safety. The relief braced itself to fill her chest, but it wasn't over yet._

" _Alright, you low-life piece of shite not fit to be on the sole of my size nines," Gene's voice bellowed out. "Now it's time to pay. What the...?"_

 _It was too late for her to scream a warning, the suspect's mask was off and his smile was sickening, singeing her eyes._

 _Gene let out a groan as Keats kicked him to the ground behind his knees, holding him up by the scruff of his neck._

" _It was all a ruse, Alex. Quite a clever one, don't you think? I knew I had to get to you where it would hurt the most."_

" _No, please no," she shouted, holding her hands above her head, eyes-wide as she looked at Gene; already he seemed defeated, so quickly. "You want me, then take me instead."_

" _Bolly!" Gene exclaimed, before he was thwarted by another blow._

 _Keats was maniacal, grinning with sadistic glee. "I gave you long enough, Alex. Two whole years. There were plenty of opportunities, but you chose not to take them." Holding Gene with one hand he brought his other up, pointing the gun squarely at Gene's temple. "What is it they always say; if you want a job doing, then you have to do it yourself."_

 _She was frantic, unable to breathe, hot tears running down her face. "Please, no, please don't."_

" _Oh, I don't think begging is going to cut it now," Keats smirked viciously, placing his finger on the trigger. "Just think of it as an eye for an eye. He nearly ended you, so now I'm going to repay the favour on your behalf."_

 _Without thinking, she started to step closer. Gene's face was resigned, his eyes fluttering closed against the cool metal, and the sight caused her heart to shatter within her chest._

" _Don't. Please don't," she managed to breathe out, her voice trembling. "Gene – no,"_

 _The shot delayed itself against her ears, and then it was all she could hear, everything she could feel. She didn't realise she had fallen until her face near collided with the parched ground._

" _No, no, no," she cried, the sound she made from the depths of her soul almost inhuman. It was too late, she knew, the silence echoing in her soul. But she couldn't stop the primal scream from emerging._

 _"GENE!"_

* * *

"GENE!"

Her throat was raw from screaming, her eyes stinging; she sat bolt upright, awake in an instant, though she was still confused as to where she was.

"What the bloody 'ell," he exclaimed, stretched out in the chair that was backed against the wall. Sooner than he had expected to he shook off the remnants of sleep and pulled himself to his feet, roused by her wild-eyed expression. "No need for an alarm clock when yer screechin' like a banshee."

Alex felt the blood rushing sharply around her body, her heart pounding hard against her chest. It looked like Gene was standing in front of her, but her mind was so gone that she had to reach out her hands, clutching at his overcoat to be certain he wasn't a figment she had conjured up in hopelessness, in utter grief.

"You're alive," she whispered, releasing her grasp on his arm after a few moments, being sure she was in her flat, in her own bed and not lying in the centre of a shoot-out, the scent of dirt and blood hanging heavy in the air along with her overwhelming sense of loss.

He frowned at her. "Just about. Yer nearly gave me an 'eart attack with all that palaver."

She looked away from his crystal gaze, burning too bright for her at this moment in time. "Sorry," she mumbled, shame-faced.

"Never mind that," he uttered after a moment, his palm pressing against her cheek. "Jesus, yer sweating buckets. A good fry-up's what you need, get yerself sorted and I'll take you for one."

She near-balked at the thought. "God, no. There's some Alka Seltzer in the cupboard, a couple of them should do the trick."

He puffed his chest, exhaling through his lips. "That's for girls."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Guv, but I am one." She smiled weakly. "I'll be alright."

"Oh, no doubt about that, Bols. An' I never bloody stop noticin'."

Silence fell about them, the atmosphere increasingly awkward and depressingly familiar. Gene stood with his hands in his pockets, appraising her sorry state with an unreadable expression on his face. Alex pulled the covers further up to her chin, though she was now aware that she was still in yesterday's clothes.

"Have you..." she began haltingly, "did you spend all night here?"

He appeared suddenly sheepish. "Slept in the chair. Neck's soddin' killin' me." He rubbed at the back of it for effect. "Couldn't have left you in that state, Bolly. Even by your standards, you were absolutely rat-arsed."

Snatches of her behaviour the previous evening were coming back to her, and she felt downright embarrassed.

"I understand why this is gettin' to yer," he uttered. "If I 'ad a daughter I'd want to string the bastards up by their bollocks an' all."

Her throat rasped again as she swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop sayin' yer sorry, Bols," he said bluntly, and then his eyes softened. It was a rare sight to behold, but it only meant that she was affected all the more when he turned that look towards her. "Sometimes I think you've got no regard for yerself. I'm worried about you, and the Gene-Genie doesn't do worryin'."

It would have been easy to hang her head, escaping his gaze while he kept it upon her. But she owed it to him to stay strong, especially when he had been so candid with her, such a rarity these days. Or so she had believed. It was becoming clearer to her that she was the one who had been shielding herself, thinking she was protecting herself in the process. When what she needed – what she had always needed – was someone else taking over that role. Someone very particular, who had been there for her as long as she could remember. He had been in memories that she had no notion of. And he hadn't left her, even in the times she had been determined to push him away, dismissing him as a construct of her imagination.

"I suppose this means that I'm off the case," she chanced after a few moments, still feeling thoroughly mortified and expecting nothing less than a firm dressing-down – and not the kind that had been a mainstay of her dreams for some time.

Gene's pout was reliably in place, his shoulders shrugging. "Not a chance, I'm afraid. That lot don't know their arses from their elbows most of the time."

"But you love them all the same."

"Wouldn't go that far." Maybe it was her still hazy eyes deceiving her, but she thought she could detect a hint of a smile rising on his face. "You're my only 'ope, Bolly. 'angover from hell or not."

She smiled in return, even if it hurt her head to do so with too much feeling.

"Thank you, Gene," she uttered slowly, "not just for last night, but for everything." She inhaled deeply as she looked back to him again. "For giving me a chance, when I haven't exactly proved myself."

His cheeks flushed a very light shade of pink, and he coughed, looking down at the floor whilst nodding his head.

Inside of her chest, her heart was going wild. If it had only been her stomach doing somersaults, she would have blamed it on the alcohol alone.

"Right then," he clapped his hands loudly together, causing her temples to throb even further, "you get those Alka-wotsits down yer neck, and I'll see you bright-eyed down the station in 'alf an 'our."

Before she could utter a 'right, Guv' he was out of the door like a proverbial whirlwind, and the last few hours seemed like they had lasted for mere minutes. Alex flopped onto her back for a couple of minutes' grace, shutting her eyes and making out flickers of starlight starting to come through behind the blackness.

After being lost for so long she had found her place again, and it was by Gene's side.

* * *

 **A/N: So we've skipped past 3.4, 3.5 and 3.6. But as 3.7 is rather an important episode we'll be getting back on track, to an extent at least, in the next chapter...(and I admit, I have a thing for Gene looking after Alex when she's worse for wear. What a knight in shining armour, or a dark overcoat at least)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Bit of a bumper chapter, this one - I'm not sure it would have worked as well to split it in two (it all seemed to flow well while I was writing), so maybe settle down with a cup of tea or take a leaf out of Alex and Gene's book and go for something stronger...**

 **I've also decided to keep the T rating even though things get rather hot *smirks* (come on, it had to happen sooner or later...)**

* * *

Chapter 3

" _Time for bed, Bollykecks."_

 _She was still on her feet, the few glasses of red not enough to fault her system. Though she was quite capable of making the way on her own his arm looped a few inches above her waist, guiding her steps._

" _I'm comin' with yer."_

 _Despite herself, despite the awfulness of the days they had faced, she giggled mischieviously._

" _Ooh, I should hope so."_

 _He tutted. "Yer really have got a mind like a sewer. Bloody well like it, though."_

 _She managed an easy smile, being transferred from the cushion of his frame to the welcoming mattress. Far preferable to the dirt and dust of the parched grass, the earth that had scraped against her hands, soaked through the knees of her jeans. It was suddenly cold as his presence departed from her side, and she reached an arm out, grabbing furiously at the air and then finding the edge of his sleeve._

" _Don't go. Please."_

" _Only takin' me coat off. Hellfire, can't get a minute's peace with you, woman."_

 _Her eyes blinked open to watch him; he sounded so near but felt so far away from her, even while he was close enough to touch. His overcoat went, followed by his tie and shirt. The glisten of the gold chain around his neck was a comfort to her – she remembered edging it with her fingertips when they were trapped in that godforsaken vault, believing then that it would be the end for the both of them. At the very edge of life, and every time she stepped too close to the point of oblivion he was always just behind her, waiting and ready to catch her from falling._

 _He threw his vest with little elegance or care to the floor, and it was her own raw gasp that shocked her, brought all of the horror rushing back to the forefront again. His hair half-covered his eyes as he gazed towards her, taking in her reaction to the bruises and lacerations that ran over his chest. One or two would still bleed if examined for long enough._

" _What has he done to you?"_

 _The tears stung viciously at her eyes. She should have sacrificed herself, but she knew Gene never would have stood for it, would have blocked the pathway to her. He would rather die than let danger befall her._

 _But he was here; he was alive._

" _Just a few scrapes, Bols. Takes a damn sight more than that to put an end to the Gene-Genie."_

 _The relief flooded her soul, though the fear at the back of her mind kept telling her that he wasn't invincible, despite everything he insisted upon. They were both damaged, broken in far too similar ways, and perhaps that's why they were thrown together._

" _You can kiss it better in the mornin'." He climbed over her, refusing to go carefully even with all of his injuries. "Need some kip first though."_

 _She felt better when he lay beside her, a large hand splaying against her stomach. At the steady sound of his breathing she turned, nestling herself against his chest, her hands lighter than feathers as she tried her best to heal him, restore him to the strong Gene she always needed. He made small sounds that weren't ones of displeasure, his hand reaching to stroke the nape of her neck._

 _After a few peaceful moments she began to murmur against his skin, a mantra that had filled her head. A desperate plea, knowing she would be utterly lost otherwise, stuck stranded for all eternity._

" _Please, Gene. Stay."_

 _The gentle sweep of his fingers ceased, and she knew in that moment she needed the vigour of his grasp upon her, his hand digging into her hip as he pulled her closer. Bugger the aches and the bruises._

" _I'm not goin' anywhere, Alex."_

* * *

The crawling frustration of the last few weeks had come to a chaotic end over a couple of days, speeding almost too fast for her to make any sense of. This case had consumed them, and it was beginning to verge on dangerous as well as pissing everyone off with the time it was taking to resolve. The tally of snatched children had gone up to six, and in the end they had resorted to surveillance. Days and nights spent trawling the streets, sitting in the Quattro until all hours, watching for the slightest warning signs. Any single person crossing the street could be a suspect. Whoever was responsible seemed to be an expert in hiding in shadows and in plain sight equally. _They're making us fuckin' cuckoo, Bolly. Bending us to their own weirdy ways._ She had hardly slept for going on 72 hours straight and had barely eaten. Maybe he was right and it was utterly hopeless but the ache in her chest wouldn't go away, still a stronger force than the nauseous feeling in her stomach and the wooziness of her head.

Their paths had barely crossed since the confrontation yet Alex harboured a certain suspicion that perhaps it was down to Keats after all. God knows what he was capable of; her illusions couldn't be the only thing that existed. The more hours that ticked by, the more she was convinced that every part of the operation was manoeuvred by him, bringing her nightmare to life in roaring technicolour.

 _It's fuckin' hopeless_ was Gene's expert opinion, and she was beginning to give in and believe him, until a figure stepped out of the shadows. Anthony Walden, youngest son of a failing factory owner. Willing to do anything to help his father and desperate to get into the limelight occupied by his older brother. More than a handful of brains, too. _Bingo._ They apprehended him with not much of a fight, questioning him with the occasional physical intervention. At this point Alex wasn't sure she cared about the latter. Abducting children and using them as pawns for personal gain was the lowest of the low. Walden gave away nothing, took the punches that were offered until she told Gene to stop. She was half-surprised at how quickly the Guv acquiesced. They put Walden in the cells and set about organising a raid on the factory. He couldn't have been working alone, but now they had him it was their priority to get the kids out, alive and safe.

The next night they were ready, guns held firm and emotions kept in check. They'd carry out the bust with absolute precision, on her request, with Chris keeping a watch on Walden in the Quattro while they rounded up the kids and collared the rest of those involved. It was disheartening enough to find the factory deserted when they all but ripped the place apart. The culprits must have known the coppers were coming; had Walden got the word out? When they arrived back at the Quattro one of the back doors was wide open, with Walden nowhere to be seen and Chris standing with a faintly shamed look upon his face.

He had let him go.

" _You complete and utter twat, Skelton. 'ave you got the faintest idea of what you've done?"_

" _It didn't add up, Guv. Walden was telling me things. It wasn't 'im, though 'e's involved on some level, and if we kept 'im locked up things were goin' to get worse. He said so himself."_

 _Chris remained adamant, staying true to his convictions and staring Gene straight out._

" _You do realise that if any of those kids end up dead that it's on your 'ead? I bloody well 'ope you can live with that on your conscience, 'cause I'm not sure I could."_

 _An ice-cold shiver ran down the length of Alex's spine._

" _You were the one who wanted to go in all guns blazing, Guv." Chris's voice was calm and measured. "You wanted a big score to prove a point. If one of the kids ends up...it won't be my fault."_

 _He was a hair's breadth of crossing the line completely, but he didn't seem to care._

 _Gene, on the other hand, was fuming._

" _Don't talk back to me, you useless piece of shit!"_

 _Alex stepped forward, attempting to intervene. With everything that was going on, the team couldn't fall to pieces as well. It would be exactly the thing Keats was plotting for._

" _Come on, now. That's enough."_

 _Gene refused to listen to her, aiming more of his ire towards an impassive Chris. "You don't have an opinion. You don't make decisions. Do you understand me?"_

 _Chris nodded lightly. "I understand you, Guv. But I don't happen to agree with you."_

 _With Alex temporarily frozen, Ray was the one to take over, holding his hands up in the space between his fellow men. "Okay, Chris. Listen, Guv, we can get in touch with uniform. The bastard's still going to be on the run, 'e won't have got very far."_

 _She knew that it was too far gone for reasoning now, as Gene inched closer towards Chris, spitting his words into the younger copper's face. "What d'you mean, you don't agree? I'm the flamin' DCI round 'ere, and you will do as I say!"_

 _Alex suspected that it was the smallest of words that would prove to be Chris's undoing; for once, she hadn't wanted to be right._

" _I don't agree with you," he said, carefully and quiet, "Sir."_

 _Nothing in the world – not even her efforts - could have stopped Gene from breaking, going completely ballistic. He threw himself with force against Chris, both of them tumbling onto the ground, Chris's back hitting the dirt with an fierce impact. Shaz cried out, Ray tried to step in whilst Alex held him back. She knew it had to be got out, the eruption of anger and stifled courage._

 _The pair of them tussled around, and Gene raised his fist above Chris, but stopped short of carrying the contact through. Alex liked to think that he had come sharply to his senses. Instead he pushed the younger away, leaving skidmarks of earth upon his washed-out jeans. Alex beheld the irate look upon on Chris's face as he walked away from the scene, Shaz following him closely. She turned with her heart already sunken in her chest, and felt the walls of the world begin to fall in upon her when she observed Gene's expression; still simmering with fury, but beneath all the bravado she could see that he was utterly crestfallen, racked with raw hurt._

 _The cracks were beginning to widen, the centre couldn't hold._

Chris had turned out to be in the right. Walden confided in him the day after he did a runner from the scene of the factory raid, and after some gentle persuasion and assurance that he wouldn't be subjected to any further roughing up from Gene led them instead to somewhere much more upmarket. It wasn't his brother – by all accounts, Vinny Walden wasn't the brightest bulb in the box – but an old associate of his father who was pulling the strings in the operation. Alex had been astounded when the back of the trucks stowed in the car park were opened; she hadn't thought trafficking was a thing in 1983. With her heart taking on a more logical bent at last, she realised that she had been naive in dismissing it, especially when so much had been on the line. Thankfully all of the children remained unharmed, and with a huge haul of drugs discovered being the added icing on the cake the culprits were seized, cuffed and given a few kicks for their troubles.

Not long after, the team found themselves back in Luigi's, the atmosphere relatively subdued despite the magnitude of the victory that had just occurred. Chris was noticeably absent and Alex had watched with sympathy as both Shaz and Ray looked to Gene begrudgingly, ignoring his offer of a reconciliatory drink. He was about to give up and slink away to lick his wounds when Chris appeared, looking markedly like a changed man. Alex admired him, and could see that it had taken a lot – and then, not too much at all – for him to stand up to Gene, telling him that he wouldn't play the doormat anymore. _Those days have gone_ , he'd said. Gene eyed him reluctantly, but Alex saw the shadow of him that had remained – that heartbroken leader standing in the midst of night, fearing that he was losing his disciples one by one. She smiled when Gene took the lead, taking Chris by the hand and then into his arms. A drink, a few shrugs and shakes of the head and nothing more was said, at both of their requests.

She came back from the ladies' to find the Guv by the bar, occupying the same old spot, glass in hand. Alex sidled up onto the stool next to him; in the background, Luigi could be heard rejoicing and speaking a fast mixture of Italian and English.

Her eyes remained pinned to Gene, the weight not yet lifted from his shoulders.

She inched her hand across the bar, grasping the wine bottle and refilling her own glass with a generous measure.

"Don't go gettin' pissed, Bols," he said gruffly.

She smiled at his downplayed concern, the Gene from her many dreams and the bona-fide man falling into one again.

"Is that Elton John and Kiki Dee's more obscure B-side?"

An image of Gene in ridiculous flares and star-shaped spectacles came into her head and she had to use the full glass to stifle the inappropriate giggles that threatened to emerge.

He failed to raise so much as a hint of a smirk, nudging his head to the back of the bar where Luigi appeared to be dancing a jig in the kitchen.

"Luigi's uppin' sticks, which means I'm goin' to finally 'ave to pay off this sodding tab," he groaned. "Goin' to clean me of me life's savings, not that there's much to speak of."

She shook her head, leaning both arms against the bar. "I'll pay half."

"Too right you will. You're the feminist. Besides, you drink like a ruddy fish."

Alex smiled, her hand running up into her hair. While Gene was desolate, staring down into the bottom of his nearly-empty glass, Luigi was the polar opposite. From the corner of her eye she could see him, whirling Mrs Luigi around and giving her the occasional kiss to one cheek or the other. Whatever he was on, they sorely needed some of it.

"I'm happy for him," she announced aloud, raising her glass even though Luigi couldn't see her doing so, "Getting to go home."

She could have lamented, let a burning jealousy eat away at her soul. Not only would have it been unfair to Luigi, but more importantly she had come to realise that the journey she had been striving for was one that would go unfulfilled. It stung deeply but she could no longer rage about it, finding that acceptance was the easier road to go down. She was simply too tired of fighting.

"I wonder what will happen to this place?" she continued on, trying to coax Gene into a more upbeat mood, glancing around at all of the sights that had become so familiar.

He looked at her without really seeing the expression on her face. "It'll become a good old-fashioned boozer, with any luck."

Perhaps there was no hope. This was Gene's world, and he seemed content more than anything else to stay stuck in the past. And she would stay there with him. There was no question over that anymore, at least not in her mind.

"Those days are gone," she said, not realising she had echoed Chris's words almost exactly until some seconds after she had spoken them.

Gene glared at her and she felt his stare run right through, cutting right to her heart and all of her dearest memories.

"Maybe they 'ave, outside," he uttered in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. He tapped the side of his glass with a sigh, before the same fingers rose up to occupy the left side of his chest. "But not in 'ere."

Alex tried to swallow away the lump that was forming in her throat. In all of the time she had known him she had never taken Gene to be so sentimental. It had been another of her faults.

She was still blindsided by his simple show of emotion when he stood from his seat, looming over her against the bar.

"The elephant's still in the room, Bolly. Let's not pretend its disappeared, the bloody size of it."

She glanced up at him, his blue eyes like shards of glass slicing at her. She didn't want to do this, not now, but at the same time she had spent long enough dismissing him and couldn't do so any longer.

"Sam Tyler," he clarified, though he couldn't have meant anything else. "You think I killed 'im."

Alex shook her head fiercely. "No, I don't. I know you could have nothing to do with his death. It wouldn't be like you." She leaned closer, getting on to the edge of her stool. "It's not you, Gene."

He spluttered in surprise, straightening his frame to full, imposing height. "Talk about a change of 'eart. Five minutes ago you were snooping around files, all ready to condemn me. Thought it was bloody payback."

She lowered her gaze in shame and self-defence, before looking up at him again, finding him pouting and ready for an explanation for her sore lack of trust and faith in him.

"I admit, I let my head be turned. I was all over the place, I didn't know what to think. Sometimes we listen to the wrong words when they're spoken, and before we know it it's too late to turn back." The ache grew in her throat; she yearned to reach out and cover his hand with her own. "But I realised what was important, and I'm so glad of it."

He stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head and throwing the last drops of drink down his throat.

"You've been sniffin' glue again, Bolly."

She stifled a smile, at the same time feeling rage for the fact that he would never let his defences drop. Maybe he still didn't trust her, and she couldn't say that she could blame him entirely.

"What makes you think you know me so well, Alex?"

His sharp shift of mood unsettled her, as did the use of her actual name. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest, feeling as though it was close to crawling up into her throat, getting ready to escape.

"I can't explain it." Once again she gave him the honest truth, and she was sure that once again he would think she was talking a load of shit. "All I know is that your team are everything to you. Your life, your soul. You'd die for them, if you had to."

The dreams she'd had recently whirled about her head, making her dizzy and sick and full of love for him. He still looked rather disapproving on the surface but looking deeper she could see that she was having an impact, chipping away at him slowly but surely.

"You take care of your own," she continued, "you'd never let any harm come to them."

He pursed his lips, not disagreeing with her entirely.

" 'aven't done a very good job with you though, 'ave I?"

The lament in his voice caused her heart to contract.

"That was my own fault. You said it yourself, I fell all wrong. Nobody to blame but me."

She smiled towards him but he didn't see it, his eyes fixed firmly downwards. This lack of fight and fire from the legendary Manc Lion unnerved her, especially given his display with Chris last night.

"This is all down to Keats," she assessed, sighing at the state of affairs. "He's making you doubt yourself."

Gene rose up again, balling his hands into fists upon the bar. "Should have known old Pencil Neck would come into it eventually," he sneered, eyes blazing towards her. This wasn't the kind of fire she had asked for, but it was what she had got. "Startin' to think you've got a perennial natural affection for wankers, Bols."

"For God's sake," she laughed, more bitterly than she had intended. "Do you honestly believe that I'm attracted to him?"

If this is what all his sulking was about then it was ridiculous, though she couldn't mistake feeling flattered that he was getting so worked up over it.

" 'alf the time I don't know what to believe," he replied. "I'm just surprised you 'aven't dropped your knickers for 'im yet. Or is the idea of 'is tiny todger puttin' you off?"

Her face hardened, half in pain that he could still dare to think that she was so easily won. She slid down from the stool, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she fought to keep her emotions in check.

"I think you've said everything, Guv."

She didn't want to leave, deep down, and so she hesitated as the doorway drew nearer. As her steps faltered, she registered the slight touch of Gene's hand upon her back. It still surprised her to find him so close when she turned around.

"Bolly," he muttered, the guilt evident in his eyes, "I was bein' a twat."

"That's not unusual lately."

His shoulders squared, hands planted firmly in his pockets. "Well, it's the first an' last time I'm gunna say so, so it better be enough for you."

She laughed – properly laughed from her stomach, the first time in she couldn't quite remember how long – and nodded as she looked at him. Her fingers hovered in the air, aimed at his lapels, but she refrained from actually following through and touching him.

"I told him where to go," she explained, hoping to assuage his consternation. "Not in your inimitable style, but I think he got the message."

He seemed gentler as he absorbed her words, his gaze dampening to a smoulder. Dare she think, he might actually _believe_ her.

She exhaled steadily, not breaking their eye contact while she spoke. "I don't give a flying fuck what Jim Keats thinks."

Gene's eyebrows raised at the bold statement uttered in her cut-glass tones. "Wanna watch what you're sayin', Bols. Yer in serious danger of givin' me the 'orn if you carry on like that."

Losing her bottle slightly, she brushed her hand briefly down the arm of his jacket, pleased when she felt him still react to her touch.

"I care what you think, Gene," she uttered softly, her fingers leaving him one by one as they got to his wrist.

She saw his throat bob; the air in her own lungs was getting in rapid danger of running thin, and she could breathe nothing but him in, feeling completely surrounded.

"Fancy a nightcap?" she said, the edge of anticipation in her voice. Try as she might, she couldn't keep it out.

He pretended to consider her offer for all of a few seconds, though it seemed like an eternity to Alex. _Hadn't she waited long enough?_

"Night's still young," he finally uttered in the affirmative. "And it 'elps that I don't 'ave to pay for it."

* * *

He'd ended the evening at hers countless times; before Operation Rose (she segmented time into before and after periods, even here) it was common-place for them to dissect a case over a bottle of wine, or alternatively get drunk enough to forget about it. Therefore it was strange for her to feel like she needed to impress, as though it was the first encounter. She had tidied the shelves – with no time to tidy herself up – while she deposited the twelve-year-old malt in his capable hands. Her hands were restless, she turned on the cassette player to occupy her mind while she dusted in a fashion.

"Bolly, stop fussin'. It's not a shit-tip in 'ere, an' I couldn't care less anyway."

Reassured, she smiled coyly as she stilled herself at his commands, moving to the sofa seconds later. Gene had made himself quite at home, long legs propped up on the coffee table and an extra button popped on the open collar of his shirt. Alex made a point not to stare as she set herself down, accepting the glass he had poured for her.

She was grateful for the warmth of the whisky in her throat, washing away the last few weeks. The case had been wearing for them both, in its own way, and she was more than glad for it to be over.

"You alright, Bols?" he asked, as though he had read her mind. It was probably speaking louder than she had realised. "After everythin'."

Clutching her glass, she nodded. "It's been tough. I'm looking forward to sleeping better tonight. To sleeping at all."

They shared a look of understanding and quiet, understated triumph. Another few bastards off the streets.

"We always get there in the end," she said, quirking her lips into a small smile.

"Wasn't good enough. Took too bloody long." His head craned back, hitting the wall lightly as he let out a deep sigh. "I'm off me game. I can feel things slippin' from me hands, and each time it's takin' longer to get a hold back again."

She crossed her legs into a more relaxed position, trying to compensate for the worry that was falling upon her face at his contemplation.

"You can't be right all the time. It's not a weakness." She didn't want to slip into work-mode, not with him and not now, and so took another sip of her drink, getting on firmer ground. "If this is about Chris, then it's alright. You did well with him."

He drew back up in slow motion, meeting her gaze reluctantly, as if he was ashamed to do so.

"It's me, Bols," he replied.

In those simple words, after more than two years of pushing and pulling, so often fighting against the tide with him – even when they were fighting for the same cause most of the time – she felt herself getting closer to the heart of Gene Hunt than she ever had before.

"I've been a copper since I was nineteen. I've tried me hardest, and I like to think I've done an alright job." Talk about selling himself short. "It's all I've ever known."

He bowed his head this time, and Alex winced, knowing that whatever was to come it wasn't going to be good.

"And now, it's like I'm forgettin' it all. Like I'm losin' meself, who I am. I see what's goin' on, I fight with everythin' I've got, but it's not enough. And it fuckin' scares me."

She inhaled deeply, her eyes blinking back tears as she looked at him, feeling such privilege that he was revealing his deepest fears to her, baring his soul before her. For more than two years – for far longer than that, really - she had felt exactly the same fear. Loss of control, loss of purpose.

Reverting back in the next minute, he stared at her firmly. "If you even think about using the psycho-babble on me, I'm lockin' yer in Cell 3 for a week straight."

She smiled genuinely, stretching her legs out towards him.

"You're the Guv," she told him confidently. "You get scum off the streets. You make a difference. So many people look up to you, depend on you."

His expression didn't change, but she knew he was taking in everything she was saying as he sat there, silent.

"Ray, Chris, Shaz – their lives would be so different if they didn't have you, guiding them, looking out for them. Even if they're not who they used to be, they're _growing_ and it's down to you, Gene."

The words were balanced on the tip of her tongue. _You've changed my life, too._ She looked more intently at him, and hoped he could see it in her eyes instead.

He heaved his frame forwards on the sofa; she felt the movement beneath her, watching him as he edged a finger around the rim of the glass, back and forth.

"I've thought about jackin' it in. More so recently. Them upstairs would be thrilled; get someone in who causes less 'eadaches."

A Fenchurch East without Gene. It seemed incomprehensible.

"Start again from scratch. Though doin' what, God only knows."

Alex tried to ignore the way she felt like she had been punched in the stomach, and focused only on him. "Would you go back to Manchester?"

She expected him to say something along the lines of _bloody hell, Bolly, you're sharp as a tack._ But he hesitated longer than she gave him credit for.

"Beer's better, petrol's cheaper. Come to think of it, everythin' is." He paused for thought again, retrieving the bottle from the table and taking a direct swig. "No soft Southern nancies. Would actually get a class of arseholes who throw a decent punch."

He'd be in his element, back at home. She had long harboured a hope and secret desire for a case to come up that would take them to Manchester, to encounter him in his natural habitat. She felt that he had been a different person there – the same Gene, but freer, less held back by rules and regulations. She longed to have known that version of him, even feeling slightly jealous of Sam in her less logical moments.

He relaxed back into place, the tips of his boots pointed upwards as he plonked them back down onto the solid surface.

"London 'as its charms, though," he uttered, tilting his head to the side. "Dunno if I could leave them behind."

Alex felt herself flushing, looking away as she leaned forward to place her glass down upon the table. Her blouse had rode up at the back, exposing a small patch of skin above the waistband of her jeans, and she was certain that Gene had honed in upon it from his spot.

She looked over her shoulder, sure enough catching him in the act like a school-boy. The sight of him looking slightly sheepish made her smile effortlessly.

"Let's have a dance," she announced, knowing that the suggestion would go down as well as a lead balloon but figuring she had nothing to lose, not tonight.

He stretched both arms out against the back of the sofa, not so much as claiming his territory as clinging onto it. She was rather breathtaken by his wingspan, but stood her ground as she got to her feet.

"Gene Hunt does not dance," he asserted, the grumpiness of his tone endearing to her.

"No," she said, "and he doesn't hug Christopher Skelton either, does he?"

He pouted at her teasing, choosing to watch her move fluidly around the room instead of petulantly looking away. Alex persisted, feeling at an advantage knowing that she had his undivided attention. Once she had adjusted the volume of the cassette player to a slightly higher level she moved back towards the sofa, holding her arm out towards him.

"Okay," he relented, pulling himself upwards and then letting her lead him into the centre of the room, "let's get it out the way. Just the one, mind."

Alex smiled at him, sparks settling upon her as one arm slipped into place firmly about her waist, the other fitting with her own.

 _#Looking from a window above  
It's like a story of love  
Can you hear me?  
Came back only yesterday  
I'm moving further away  
Want you near me#_

"You got any Herb Alpert?" Gene enquired.

She let out a hint of a laugh, before looking at up at him apologetically. "No."

He shrugged, grasping onto her hand tighter. "S'pose this'll 'ave to do then."

They swayed along to the music, their movements in synchronisation. It felt surreal, she couldn't deny it, but utterly perfect too. She'd only ever danced with a man at her wedding, and then she hadn't felt connected to the moment, feeling like a fraud. She imagined that Gene would have been even more reluctant than Pete but he quickly found his way into it, the way he was holding her not uncertain in the least. Tender, safe, secure. She craved more of his touch, and moved herself closer in towards him. She wasn't mistaken when she heard his breath hitch lightly.

 _#Sometimes when I think of her name  
When it's only a game  
And I need you  
Listen to the words that you say  
It's getting harder to stay  
When I see you#_

His body was warm, she felt such comfort in his presence and relief that he was still here. She let her hand slip from where it had rested against his shoulder down to his chest, and was somewhat astounded to feel the fierce pounding of his heart against her fingertips. It was racing even faster than her own. His cobalt eyes blinked down at her, he made no attempt to shrug her away when she pressed her palm firmer.

"It's always been you," she uttered, her own eyes clear as she matched his unflinching gaze. "Whenever I've needed you you've always been there. When I insisted that I didn't, you never left." She smiled to herself, aware of her own stubbornness, knowing it was every inch like his own. "I've wondered, if you knew."

She paused for a moment, reading his eyes. Even if he did, she had left it unsaid for too long.

"If I didn't have you, I'd be lost."

Alex felt as though she might melt with the way he kept looking at her. Ironically, the only thing preventing her from doing so was the loop of his arm around her waist and his hand held at the base of her spine.

"You're a tough old bird," he appraised, "you'd get by."

Her eyes were wide as she moved her hand further up, a touch tentatively, caressing the line of his jaw with the pad of her thumb.

"Stay," she pleaded with him.

"I'm not goin' back to Manchester, you dozy mare. Too much shit to deal with 'ere."

She shook her head faintly, her throat aching with the longing she felt. "No. Stay here. Please."

He inhaled deeply as she moved her hand against his cheek, her fingertips grazing the light stubble. He indulged her, and himself, for a moment or two and then took her hand away, covering it with his own.

"For you, Bols," he breathed out, "Because no one else will 'ave me."

One song faded into the next; the promised singular dance had come to an end, and yet they carried on swaying, the world beyond the flat fading further into the distance.

 _#So true, funny how it seems  
Always in time, but never in line for dreams  
Head over heels when toe-to-toe  
This is the sound of my soul#_

It hadn't taken much for her to rest her head upon his shoulder, and she closed her eyes as the music played around them, unable to remember a time in the recent past - or the future - when she had felt so content. So complete.

 _#I bought a ticket to the world  
But now I've come back again  
Why do I find it hard to write the next line  
Oh I want the truth to be said#_

Her eyes were still closed, so for a moment she thought she was dreaming when she felt Gene's lips brushing against her forehead. A small muffled sound of delight came from the back of her throat, and she lifted her head, opening her eyes and gazing up at him.

"Alex..."

"I know."

Her heart ran wild at the sound of her name leaving his lips, and her eyes remained focused upon them as she leaned into him. Breath holding, lashes fluttering shut as they got closer; she could almost feel him, seconds before she got the chance.

The knock upon the door echoed into the flat, and the first thing she did was look at Gene, her eyes wide with shock and apology. _Of all the bloody moments_ , she cursed inwardly. It was as if they were destined to be pulled apart, forever star-crossed.

Not content with hammering, Keats's voice bellowed through the closed door.

"Alex! I know you said that your mind was made up, but I've come across something that I think you'll find very interesting."

She flinched at the sound of his voice, the way he spoke her name so differently from the tender way Gene had uttered it minutes previously. Gene was looking at her, his stance frozen and aimless once more.

"Alex!" Keats's tone became sharper, angrier. "Come on now, it's not too late."

He began banging upon the door again, the incessant raps drowning out the sound of the stereo.

"Jesus, if 'e doesn't stop I'm gunna put my fist through the bloody thing to shut 'im up."

"Don't," Alex whispered, placing her finger upon Gene's lips to still him in place. "He'll get bored eventually."

Gene appeared less than convinced but he remained held to the spot as Alex continued to run her thumb along his bottom lip. A few minutes passed, they both heard Keats scream in frustration and what sounded like the sole of his shoe slam against the door before he departed.

She waited a minute or so to be absolutely certain of no further interruption, then smiled as she drew closer to Gene once more, almost resuming completely her previous position.

"Now," she rasped, her hand resting against his chest again, "where were we?"

" 'ang on," Gene said, taking her hand and pushing it away lightly.

She panicked, hoping that their chance had not been wrenched away. Perhaps he thought she was leading him on, that she was involved with Keats and bringing him upstairs was all a trap. The only way she could show him that it wasn't would be to kiss him, and now the hope of doing exactly that and proving herself seemed to be fading fast.

His eyes bore holes through her; surely he could see through into her heart and soul, and know that this was what she had desired for such a long time.

"No mind games, Alex. If yer serious about this, it's all or nothin'." His voice was raw, the quality of it affecting her, settling both in the centre of her chest and between her thighs. "Can't take it otherwise."

Her breath held even as she felt the weight lift from her. He needed reassurance, just the same as she had always sought from him.

"No games," she echoed him, inching closer with the breath she exhaled. "This is real. You and me." She smiled with all the memories of the times he had spoken those same words. "Unbreakable."

His mouth quirked as he placed his hands either side of her waist, pulling her nearer.

"I trust you," she uttered, her voice clear and true. "And, more than that, I need you."

Electricity rifled through her when she tipped her head forward, her lips connecting with his. She had to draw breath between each brief and yet utterly addictive touch; she couldn't stop herself going back for more. Though he responded to every kiss, his eyes seeking hers afterwards and surely seeing that she was set aflame for him, she was rather taken aback by his apparent hesitancy. Perhaps she had got him all wrong, and he preferred her setting the pace.

"'scuse me, Bols," he said huskily, one hand running tantalisingly slowly up the curve of her side, "I can't quite believe this is happenin'."

She smiled wickedly, offering up a silent prayer.

"No," she whispered, sipping another kiss from his lips. "But it is, Gene." And another. _God, he already tasted incredible, and she'd only had the barest hint._ "It really is."

Before he could say anything in return she captured him, tugging on his bottom lip. She wasn't sure if that was what set him off but she didn't care, surrendering completely as he deepened the kiss. His palm was upon her face, his other on her hip. His tongue met hers sensually, and everything in combination was almost too much and still not enough. Alex thought she heard herself moan against his mouth; she was kissing him with fervour and he was kissing her, just the way she had always dreamt of. A million times better than in her dreams, truth be told.

They had to break for air after a couple of minutes, both breathing raggedly.

"Gene," she gasped, not even noticing that he had backed her against a wall. Her head was whirling, and it was full of him.

"I've got yer, Alex."

He kissed her with a tenderness that made her decidedly weak, and she slipped her hands at his shoulders to steady herself even as the wall supported her weight. With her assistance his jacket shrugged to the floor and it was her intention to start on more of those buttons but he got there before she did, his fingers brushing against her as he undid her blouse. He pulled the garment open, exposing her by grasping her by the shoulders, then his mouth was on her neck, breath hot and kisses brandishing her skin.

She murmured her approval as the top of her head met the wall, and Gene worked his way further down, nipping lightly and kissing a path to her cleavage. Despite thinking that her bra would be off in less than seconds it remained in place as his hands cupped her through the silky fabric, thumbing the peaks of her nipples with just the right kind of pressure.

His gaze was searching as he pulled himself back up, full of desire and yet holding much more. She couldn't think of it just yet, otherwise she'd slip away, never to be discovered again for all eternity. Unable to resist she leaned forward again, loving the taste of whisky and faint smoke on his tongue, intoxicated by the taste of _him_.

"About to break me own rules 'ere." His voice rasped while his hands caressed her stomach, fingers fumbling on the button of her jeans.

"I think we've had enough 'dates' that it's alright," she smiled, flexing her hips to help him on the way.

"Don't you waggle yer bloody fingers at me. I 'ate that."

She shook her head, holding her hands up, and then swiftly pressed them against the wall as she registered his fingers stroking her delicately, amazingly.

"Mmmm, Gene," she murmured, gasping for breath, begging him silently never to stop touching her.

"Christ, Bols, it's wetter than a weekend in Blackpool down there."

Through her escalating euphoria, she stifled a giggle, not wanting to dent his ego and certainly not wanting him to think twice about what he was doing. "How romantic."

His eyes flickered up towards her, increasing the pleasure she felt even further.

"Oh, I can give you romantic." He always did his best when he was being challenged. "You're bloody gorgeous. Have wanted yer since the moment I clapped eyes on you."

The sincerity of his words, how she reciprocated his sentiments, as well as the way he was continuing to caress her, made her feel more alive than she ever had, burning with pure passion for him.

"Lost count of the times I've dreamt about you, Bolly. You're always in my 'ead, can't get you out."

"Tell me," she breathed, running her hands against his neck and over the breadth of his shoulders, urging him on. "Were they good?"

"More than good," he replied, his breath as uneven as hers was. "Gonna start runnin' out of sheets if I 'ave many more."

She smiled coyly as he looked up at her again, his hand stilling and extricating from beneath her waistband, leaving her aching from the loss of his touch.

"I'm crap at this," he sighed, his eyes looking deep into hers. "You deserve better. I'm not good enough for you, that's why I've always kept me distance."

How strange it was that such searing desire should be met with an overwhelming sorrow. Alex placed both of her hands upon his face, hoping that it would be enough to make him understand.

"Don't say things that aren't true," she added softly, glad to see his mouth quirk slightly.

She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs and fingertips, then impulsively let her hands slide down past his throat, undoing the buttons on his shirt as she went, stroking his still covered torso.

"You can see how much I want you," she stated brazenly, taking delight in how the steel of his eyes sparkled. "And you want me too."

"Do I ever," he growled deep in his chest, dipping forward to graze his lips against her neck again.

Alex hummed at the feel of his mouth upon her, hardly knowing how she'd existed for so long without the sensation.

"I've always thought actions speak louder than words."

He tugged at her hips, drawing her closer towards the heat of his body. She wasn't mistaken in feeling the evidence of his want for her pressing against her thigh, and her head started to swim in anticipation.

Gene pulled back, the sight of him licking his lips after ravishing her sending her near incoherent.

"You're one of a kind, Alex Drake."

She was starting to reconsider her previous statement, given that what he'd said had completely melted her.

Their mouths met again, having nothing else to say, knowing they were past the point of any return. Alex held onto him as they shared one long kiss after another, her hands slipping underneath the hem of his vest, yearning to touch bare skin.

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom," she whispered, looking at him from beneath heavy-lidded lashes, her heart thudding at a rate she thought must be potentially fatal.

"Dunno if I can make it that far," he replied, nodding to direct her attention back to the protrusion tenting the front of his trousers.

She smiled as she glanced back upwards, threading her fingers through his.

"Let me help, then."

He said nothing more, going willingly as she pulled him along towards the door that lay not metres away.

She let go of his hand to flick on the lamp at her bedside, turning to see the soft golden light framing him as he stood off-centre in the room.

"Not sure I 'ad you down as a 'lights on' bird, Bols."

The smile was back on her face as she padded back towards him, kissing him gently while she took fistfuls of his vest in her hands, his shirt having been discarded on the journey.

"I don't want to miss a thing about this," she answered him, brushing her lips over his cheek and hearing him hiss in response to the trailing of her fingernails over his gradually exposed chest.

She'd brought the vest over his head and inhaled deeply, focusing upon his form. She had half expected and steeled herself to discover the red and angry scars that haunted her dreams, but instead found him smooth, unmarked. Her lips pressed to his skin and he groaned as she dotted kisses upon him.

"Jesus, Bolly. If this is the beginnin', God knows 'ow I'm gonna last."

He soon returned the favour, his mouth teasing at her throat and his hands roaming over her, unable to touch all the places he wanted to at once. She sighed into his shoulder, smiling as she felt his fingers scrabbling at her back, the tickling sensation causing goosepimples to rise all over her skin.

"It opens at the front," she enlightened him, and saw his eyebrows raise in half-indignation.

"Could 'ave told me that sooner," he grumbled faintly.

"It felt nice."

She shivered as he nimbly undid the clasp, letting out an appraising breath after he dropped the bra to the floor.

"Perfect," he uttered simply, cupping his palms to her breasts. He pushed her back gently, and Alex let herself fall onto the waiting bed, thinking of little else than Gene's lips mapping her, his hands fluttering between her breasts, stroking her sides and then reaching to tug off her jeans.

He paused before going further, raking his heated gaze over her near-naked form. She squirmed and gasped helplessly as the fingers of one of his hands traced over the lacy panel of her knickers, the other hooking into one side of them, brushing the top of her thigh purposefully. Her lips parted as she gazed up at him, never knowing such craving with her entire soul.

"You'll 'ave to be patient with me, Bols. It's been a while." He looked humble as he found her eyes again. " 'aven't had anyone else since you waltzed in and turned everythin' upside down. Cross me heart."

She didn't let him say the rest, her hand reaching up to trace his jaw.

"Oh, Gene," she sighed, "why didn't we do this sooner?"

He was more serious than she had ever seen him. "Search me." Tingles ran from her head to toes as he dipped to kiss her. "Better late than never, though."

She pulled his head down, deepening the kiss to satisfy them both. The lace of her knickers grazed her legs as he slipped them from her and she had to touch him too, wrenching with his belt and fly, her breath catching as she fondled him through his boxers. _Bigger in every department, indeed._

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, looking down at her. "Keep all that goin' and this will be a bitter disappointment."

"I _have_ waited quite enough," she rasped, reaching that bit further and curling her fingers delicately around him, the weight hot and heavy in her hand. "Just a little longer, please."

She was deliriously happy to hear the deep groan emerge from him at her pleading, as well as the way she continued to stroke along him.

Hands kept busy exploring, lips colliding when they weren't pleading with one another to touch _that way, just there,_ though they both knew instinctively what to do. Nothing had ever felt so right and Alex smiled and sang with the ecstasy of it all, knowing she was falling further with every second that passed. She had denied it for as long as she possibly could but now denial was impossible.

She was in love with Gene Hunt.

They had spent so long kissing, touching and teasing that she almost felt as though she would implode before he said the words.

"Alex, luv. Can't 'old on any longer."

She gazed up at him, her mouth dry as she nodded.

"I'm yours, Gene."

It was indescribable. The pleasure, the relief, the longing; the need absolved and increased tenfold. Her arms draped around his shoulders, her legs wound about his waist to draw him in further; she heard him groan and curse and answered him with her own cries and moans, creating a wonderful harmony. Together at last, and by god, they fit together so well. She kissed him, felt the sweat trickle down his back as they gasped in tandem. She loved him more when he uttered her name, near breathless.

"Alex...Jesus Christ, _Alex_."

Her hands traced his sides, grasped to his hips and shoulder blades in turn. She clung to him as if it was the end of the world echoing before them, and yet she knew it was only the beginning. Her breath caught for the countless time as she felt his fingers stroke her a little further from where they were joined. Oh god, she was close. So close. She felt complete, in an entirely different way to when she'd been at home. He was another home for her, and she felt the power so intensely that it coursed through her veins, almost splitting her apart and making her anew.

"Gene...oh my god, _Gene_."

Her breathing was unsteady as she reached her end; she fumbled upon the sheets beneath her and felt a jolt of surprise when he took her hand in his, holding on tight.

"Alex," his breath was hot against her ear as he urged her on, "look at me."

She opened her eyes with some effort, astounded as she gazed at him above her, hair flopped over his forehead, appearing so handsome and majestic. Her heart soared so far that it made her dizzy, and she was breathtaken to behold the galaxy of stars that reigned above both of them, shining so beautifully. _It was impossible, surely._

After the moment of serene stillness, looking at him as he had asked and feeling everything she had known shift, they resumed their previous movements. His hips moved increasingly erratically and she did what she could to even out the pace, her hands threading through his hair.

"Alex!"

He let out a strangled groan, and she soothed her palms down his back, feeling him trembling.

"It's okay, my love," she murmured, the blissful haze having already taken hold of her, still making her nerves sing. " _Gene_."

Perhaps that was all that he needed to hear from her. From anyone, but she wanted to believe especially her. She crested the wave of his release with him, smiling and placing kisses upon his shoulder as he collapsed upon her, the warmth flooding through her body making her feel wonderfully drowsy.

"Bolly," he uttered as he rolled onto his back, the fingers that had been clinging onto hers so tight that they had turned white brushing against her neck. "Alex."

She had drifted into a satisfied sleep but she heard him as he said her name. She felt him as he left a tender kiss upon her cheek, closing his own eyes to join her.

* * *

The room was still in shadow when she woke up; it had only gone half two but it felt like she had slept for days. She stretched her limbs against the sheets, the delicious ache settled within her bones and other very distinct places in her body. She smiled at the sensation, the way her head was swimming in bliss so immediately as she emerged from sleep. The fact that for the first time in this existence she hadn't woken in her bed alone.

She turned to face him – shifting his hand that had been placed upon her hip in doing so – seeing him delightfully rumpled and wearing the smug expression of a man who was aware exactly just how good he was. Well, not only good, but _magnificent._ The tingles that had possessed her body sparked to life again at the barest touch upon her arm.

"It wasn't a dream, then," she said, voice laced with sleep and supreme satisfaction.

"Bloody well 'ope not," he mumbled in response, "otherwise don't want to wake up again."

She giggled, breath catching slightly as he took a firm hold of her bum with one hand. She had been too lost in him to bother putting her underwear back on afterwards, and now he looked even more smug, fondling her everywhere. Not that she was complaining about the fact. His touch was exquisite, not entirely what she expected but everything she had ever longed for. She felt like a horny teenager but was glad that she was old enough to appreciate every second.

A growl of appreciation came from his throat as he stroked the curve of her hip slowly, and somehow she managed to be turned on even further.

"I am one lucky bastard," he affirmed, eyes glinting. "You're beautiful, Bols. Can't keep me hands off yer."

"I don't want you to take them off."

Given that he was as gloriously naked as she was at this moment in time, she considered herself to be incredibly lucky as well.

"Mmmm. Might cause a bit of a problem on the day job. S'posed to be apprehendin' arseholes when I'd rather be coppin' a feel of your gorgeous arse instead."

She laughed, running her fingers over the side of his face, taking advantage herself. She couldn't shake the frisson of pleasure that erupted when he groaned at her touch.

" ' _Just one night'_ , that's what you said." His gaze penetrated her, reminding of that first offer she had made to him, off the cuff, borne out of so much frustration. "Still stand by that, Bols? Yer usually a woman of your word."

The thought snapped a vice around her heart, and she had to make things clear.

"I don't know why I said that. Trying to be clever, I suppose."

"As bloody usual."

Her lips smiled, though her eyes betrayed her sudden fear.

His hand rested firmly upon her hip-bone, holding her in place to claim her. "Could never just get me leg over with you, Alex. You've affected me too much for that. Goin' bleedin soft thanks to you, woman."

"I hope not for long," she smirked, unable to resist making a smutty comment. The moment passed with his appreciation, she turned serious again. "Me neither. This is something serious, Gene. Something I've never felt before."

A slow smile appeared on his face, lighting him up. "Well I'm glad to be yer first, in something at least."

She imagined years stretching out ahead of them, working the days side-by-side, going home together once they were done. She longed to live in her imagination and knew she could do so until the morning dawned, at least, but even lying in the peaceful dark she found that she couldn't stop herself from breaking the spell.

"What happens now?"

The immortal words slipped from her lips before she could pull them back. She remained staring into his face, hoping that he could provide her with all the answers. One thing uncovered was always only the start. They'd forgotten for a few hours, but everything would still be there tomorrow – the creeping chaos, the mystery waiting to be unravelled. Even with another few bottles of red and more snogs to accompany them, they couldn't be erased.

He searched her eyes the same, lips curling into a trademark pout. "Dunno. You're the psychic one."

She smiled faintly. "That's not..."

"I know, you dozy mare," he interjected, the gruffness of his tone soothing her. To her pleasant surprise he took her hand with his, stroking her fingers as he pulled it to his chest. "We carry on. It's all we can do."

She nodded, knowing that there was no other way. Her palm pressed to him, she was reassured by the steady beating of his heart, closer to her now.

"Makes us stronger, this does. We've got a connection, Alex, and it's set in stone now." He paused, letting the enormity of the night sink in for the both of them. "Anyone wants to come between us, break us down, they've lost before they've begun."

Alex began to blink back happy tears. This felt wonderful, as much as it was alien to her. For most of her life she'd had to fight against so many things that sought to defeat her. As ridiculous as sounded, it was as though it had been a countdown from the moment she was born. Now, with him, she felt invincible.

Her fingers linked with his, their palms kissing.

"We go in, get on with the next case that comes along. Go for a few rides in the Quattro, piss off Keats enough that he sees sense and packs 'is bags. Do what we do best."

She blinked in the slowly lifting darkness, a smirk marking her face. "I don't know. Doing what we do best probably isn't advisable in the office, even with the blinds drawn."

He sniggered, lifting his head from the pillow and looming over her. "You'll be the death of me, Bolly."

A sharpness arrowed her chest, the blood running cold in her veins.

"Don't say that."

His eyes narrowed as she reached to touch him, reassure herself with the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. It was delaying the inevitable, she knew – at least, she was almost certain – but for now at least she wanted nothing more than to pretend. To hold on.

"Alright," he groused, shifting down the bed while his hands glided over her, "I'll put me gob to better use then, shall I?"

"Gene," she wondered aloud, ceasing when he disappeared from her sight and settled himself between her thighs, nudging her gently open. " _Oh, god!_ "

Threading her hands tight in his hair, she closed her eyes, smiled and settled back for the ride. If this was heaven after all, then it seemed to be doing a very good job in living up to her expectations.

* * *

 _It all felt so real. The mist of the rain in the air and upon her skin, the soil that she clawed at with her fingers, digging away desperately._

 _She looked up to the sky, saw the farmhouse in the distance, the weather vane pointing north. Keats wasn't there, Gene wasn't there, no gunshots were fired._

 _A gleam of silver pinned to the shoulder of the eerie-looking scarecrow, dressed in a long black overcoat, and she edged the numbers with her fingertips, carefully removing the traces of dirt. 6620._

" _You've found me, Alex. It's been years. I've been here waitin' all of this time."_

 _Her head swivelled at the sound of the strange yet familiar voice, taking in the young policeman in pristine uniform, half his face blown away, disfigured._

" _Who are you? Why am I here?"_

 _The half that remained transformed into a smile._

" _Don't you recognise me? We've got a connection..."_

She dressed quickly, not bothering with a shower and unable to stomach breakfast. Sitting on the edge of the bed softly, Gene was sprawled out, the duvet just about covering his naked form. She touched her hand gently to his forehead, stroking his hair back and edging his skin.

"Mmm, Alex," he muttered, groaning at the softness of her touch. "S'early. Come back to bed."

She did her best to keep her voice even as she spoke, her eyes pinned to him as he looked so at ease, without a worry in the world. "I had a dream. About you."

"Bleedin' 'ell woman, you're insatiable." With eyes half-closed he pulled himself upwards, grasping the sheets in his hands. "At least give me the chance to have a bit of scran first."

She took in a breath, watching him carefully as he started to spring to life. Impulsively, she placed her hand upon his chest, stilling him.

"I was somewhere," she began to explain, knowing it would hardly make sense to him. "We have to go there, today. It's important."

He stared at her. "Yeah?"

She nodded.

"Do you know a place called Farringfield Green?"

* * *

 **A/N: *dun dun dun* (I know, I know...but I promise there will be a better ending than canon. That's why I had to write this fic in the first place!)**

 _ **Only**_ **_You_ written by Vince Clarke. I felt like it was underused in the show and it's such a beautiful song perfect for a little romantic sway. _True_ written by Gary Kemp, and well...need I say anything more (I can never listen to that song again without wanting to burst in a fit of feels-induced tears, but it's the most wonderful torture)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The last chapter - thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited, followed!**

 **Some of the dialogue has been borrowed from the scripts - full credit to Matthew Graham and Ashley Pharoah for their respective talents. And I suppose by that measure I should give a spoiler warning...though I'm not entirely sure that it's needed ;)**

* * *

Chapter 4

They drove to Lancashire the same morning, rain lashing against the windscreen, Alex not daring to look out at the changing landscape as the miles passed by. Gene remained none the wiser, asking her only the once what all the rush was about and leaving it alone when she admitted that she couldn't tell him. Her mind had lied to her often enough before; perhaps this was another elaborate trick or else a misguided attempt to uncover the reason why she was here, once and for all.

That had always been the problem in the past: she had always focused on _herself_ , raking over the details of her own life, and failed to make the deeper connections.

It took hours, and the storm had stopped by the time they arrived at Farringfield Green. The place from almost every dream she had had for the past two weeks. She mapped out the location as though she had known it from years ago, leaving a clueless Gene trailing in her wake. Everything was as she remembered it. The dilapidated farmhouse with its creaking weather vane. The scarecrow standing upon the top of the hill. She took unrivalled care in unpinning the epaulette from its shoulder, passing it into Gene's hands before she fell to her knees, using her hands to dig. She was terrified of what she would find, terrified that she had been wrong all along. At her back, she was aware of the fact that Gene was pointing his gun at her, though she wasn't scared of him or anything he would do. She knew that it was instinct, drummed into him since he was nothing more than a boy.

 _He was a skinny lad, needed fattening up._

Her heart sunk like a stone, the tears streamed from her eyes as she discovered the warrant card, passing it after a few moments into the hands of its rightful owner. There was a haunted look in his eyes, one that remained as they went to the farmhouse together, Alex shivering in her coat underneath the grey sky. Faded red white and blue bunting hung everywhere amongst the wreckage, and she listened to him as he recounted, the past coming back clearer than the present.

 _Yeah, it was Coronation Day. That was a funny one. His first week on the beat._

The pieces were all falling into place, the distance lessening with every word spoken. Though she had no recollection of the time he described she was so consumed that she felt as though she was living his re-emerging memories with him. It wasn't as strange as it seemed, not that she was now aware that by being here, past this particular revelatory moment, she was part of the story.

Her heart broke for him, for a life so full of promise snatched away, a death marked by sudden fear and terrible injustice, a shallow grave that he didn't deserve. Left for all of those years, alone and forgotten.

We make ourselves into what we wish to be. It's too difficult to do that in the real world, with so many factors waiting to tear you down. Somewhere else, somewhere better, the game is different and the options are endless. You could do almost anything, if you wanted. Chase the outlaws from the pictures you watched, wide-eyed with wonder. Find a hero in a true form, when you had always considered it a figment of your forming imagination.

A different life, but one no less meaningful. A role that was undeniably important. The protector of lost souls, all those who had gone forgotten. Not on his watch.

The rain had followed them up and started again, the sound of thunder muffled by the shelter the Quattro provided. Sitting in the passenger seat she looked at him with new eyes, ones that were still brimming. His head hung low, chin near resting upon his chest. 6620 gleaming within his gloved fingers. Underneath his sorrow and grief she saw nothing different about him. She saw only the man he was meant to be, if only life had been kinder. And yet fate had been the stronger force; funny, she had never really believed in it until now. It hadn't fit with her field of thinking. After years, holding onto all she had known even as it slipped gradually from her fingers, her heart won the battle against her head.

She saw the man that he _was._

As she linked her fingers with his in the space between them, she felt the warmth of his skin even beneath the layer of leather, and was irrevocably relieved, yet more so when those steel-blue eyes looked towards her.

"Tyler knew, didn't 'e?" He didn't turn away as she nodded slowly in answer to his question. "Smart arse."

"I think he didn't want to hurt you," she said, stomach twisting as she wondered whether she had done the right thing in bringing him here, making him remember when he would have rather gone on forgetting. "He knew what all of this meant to you. Didn't want dismantling it to be your last memory of him."

She heard him sigh heavily, and felt helpless. The standard responses echoed in her mind from her previous life. _You've been through a lot. The mind takes time to heal_. He wasn't a client and she wouldn't treat him like one. She'd usually look to him for what to do, she realised, and so she was lost.

"Never got to say goodbye properly. Seven bloody years, and that's 'ow it ended. 'e wouldn't let me go to the pub with 'im and Cartwright, said I'd 'ad enough for everyone in there. Think I told 'im to piss off. That was the last thing I said to 'im. After everything..."

His voice wavered as though he was near to breaking down. She had never even contemplated him crying and thought that the reality would break her.

He held back, sniffing as he reared his head.

"I'm sorry, Alex," he uttered, causing her to stare at him in confusion. "That you 'ad to leave 'er. It's not right."

"It's not your fault." The tears stung fiercer at her eyes at the thought of her daughter, but she managed to smile at him, knowing that she had another duty. "It'll hurt me every day, I know that. But I couldn't ask for things to be any different. It wouldn't be fair."

She wanted Molly to live her life, more than she had wanted to recover and go back to living her own. She hoped that her daughter lived to be a hundred or more, achieving all that the generations before her couldn't even as they strived.

The smile grew upon her lips as she raised her free hand to her chest. "And I'll always keep her, in here."

She was happy to see the flicker of recognition upon Gene's face as she drew a circle around her breastbone.

If she couldn't be with Molly, there was no better place that she could be. Here she could go on living, not being lost to the both of them, drifting into the unknown.

"You know, when I first came here I can't tell you how scared I was. Spent half my life studying psychosis, and there I was." She inhaled deeply as she cast her mind back. "Thought I was as mad as a bag of bees."

Gene raised his eyebrows. "But you looked good though."

"I was dressed as a prostitute."

"My point."

She shook her head swiftly, the image forming again before her eyes, the sunshine that was now absent almost blinding her. "And there was this car, and those boots."

She paused to take him in again, the vision of him different now but barely changed to her. She smiled.

"And you. Gene Hunt."

He blinked slowly at her as the rain hammered harder against the roof. "My real name is Nigel Perkins."

Alex frowned in confusion, having read the name on the warrant card for herself not that long ago.

"No, I'm joking. It's Gene Hunt."

She smirked. "You know, you're the most difficult, stubborn, obnoxious, misogynistic and reckless human being I've ever met."

"Come on," he fixed a stare at her, "surely you've missed one out."

Oh, there were so many things she could label him as. Such wonderful and inexplicable contradictions. She was far past the point of analysing.

"And yet somehow," she went on, curling her fingers tighter around his, "you make us all feel safe." She smiled as she looked into his eyes, releasing the popper and easing the glove from his hand, sparks running the length of her spine as skin met skin. "Because that's who you are, Gene. You've never changed."

Connected to her gaze, he was silent and contemplative for a moment or two, and she thought she was on the verge of some historic victory.

"It's over, Bolly," he uttered, resignation seeping back into his tone. "It's no use trying to cheer me up."

She stayed calm, not feeling like it was an effort. The storm was outside, it couldn't touch them in here.

"It's not over. It's only the beginning." She hadn't believed a lot in the past two years or more, but this was her lifeline. "We carry on, rally the team. They have to know the truth, Gene."

He looked at her and she saw flashes of his younger self coming back to life momentarily, the nineteen year old who for all his ambition and idealism was deathly afraid of real confrontation.

"It's the only way we can all get through," she continued, knowing that she had to be the one to kick-start him into action. " _Together."_

 _You and me_. Of course, the others too. He loved his team, held them dear like they were family. There had to be a reason why they had stayed so long, after all.

"Can't leave 'em alone for five minutes. 'oo knows what'll 'ave happened."

Alex smiled as she saw him rallying before her eyes, getting back to himself.

He turned back to her after staring through the droplets that covered the windscreen, his eyes clear and intensely blue.

"Thank you, Alex."

She nodded quickly, tears clouding her vision. She blinked them back as she brought his hand to her mouth, placing a kiss in the centre of his palm. He trembled a little beneath her lips, she felt and embraced it. He had let her in to the most truthful part of himself and there was no way she would ever get out.

"Given the state I'm in, I should let you drive."

Her eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Another one over your 'ead. Not very quick on the uptake today, are we, Bols?"

A slow smile grew on her face, and she studied his movements as he placed the shining epaulette carefully on the dashboard in front of him. He let out a sigh that she heard in the depths of her heart before it was drowned out by the roaring engine of the Quattro.

"Best get you back down South before you start goin' even more batty than you already are."

* * *

They'd expected that some things might have gone awry in their absence, but neither had prepared for the scene that greeted them as they burst back through the doors.

"What in the name of bloody Nora 'as gone on 'ere?" Gene exclaimed, looking accusatorily at the three remaining figures that populated CID so late in the working day. "Raymondo, 'ave you seen fit to go on an office bender whilst Drake and I 'ave been away?"

The place was in an absolute state. Desks overturned, cabinets crashed to the floor with the paperwork they contained spilled out everywhere. The door to Gene's office was half-smashed in and hanging from its hinges, blinds half-open half-closed.

"It was Keats, Guv," Chris piped up from a corner of the room that had suffered the least destruction. " 'e came out of 'is office lookin' all serious. Asked where you were, boss...I mean, Ma'am. When 'e saw that you and the Guv weren't 'ere 'e just went ballistic. Started trashing the place, screaming. Kept sayin' _'it's over'_ and _'it's too late'_ over and over again. It was weird."

"Always thought 'e was a psycho," Ray added, whirling his finger in a circle to his temple.

Alex glanced around at the mess, tiptoeing through the wreckage towards her desk, the singular one that had remained standing. Left upon it was an old photograph of the farmhouse at Farringfield Green, a cold shiver inching down her as she dared to think how differently the situation could have gone.

"It was really scary," Shaz murmured, bringing her hand away from her mouth. "I thought he was going to do something horrible."

She looked as though she might burst into tears on the memory, and went willingly when Chris pulled her into an embrace.

"He just kept saying your names," she went on, looking between Gene and Alex. "Saying that there was nothing he could do, that he should have stopped it. Because it was all too late."

Alex looked over at Gene, who gave her the smallest quirk of a smile.

Ray was rummaging in the debris that was his desk, exasperated as his hands fumbled. "If the bastard has nicked my cans, there's going to be hell to pay."

"Hang on," a flicker of recognition sparked upon Chris's face, his arm draped around Shaz's shoulder. "If 'e kept talking about you, Guv, and you, Ma'am, and saying all that...'ave you two done the business?"

"Chris!" Shaz shrieked, tapping him on the chest. "That's private."

Alex felt herself flushing under their scrutiny. Sensing her discomfort, Gene stepped forward.

"First the traffickin' lark and now this, your detective skills are comin' on leaps and bounds, Christopher."

Chris smiled proudly at the Guv's appraisal, letting the magnitude of what had just been revealed pass him by for the moment. Alex almost hoped that the floor, as desecrated as it was, would open into a sinkhole and swallow her up.

"That's ace. I'm happy for you, Ma'am, Guv," Shaz chirruped, smiling wide at the both of them. Her hand was still placed upon Chris's chest, and she leaned her head closer to his ear. " _Finally_ ," she whispered, a smirk playing on her face.

Sidling up behind them, Ray tapped Chris on the shoulder. "You owe me a tenner, mate. And three pints."

Chris frowned, turning at the waist. "Yeah, but we don't actually know that they did _that_..."

"Come on, they must 'ave. If the Guv's got anything to do with it."

As Alex was about to curl herself into a ball and will herself to disappear, Gene raised his voice.

"Alright, you bloody perverts. What myself and DI Drake get up to in the privacy of 'er 'ome or anywhere else is none of your business. And I don't want you bettin' on it, either."

Her honour partly redeemed, Alex went towards Gene, covering her hand over his as it rested by his side.

"Oh bloody hell, so it begins," Ray remarked.

"Gene," she said to him, her voice quiet and her eyes flickering up towards his. Urging him silently they both knew what he had to do, as the others remained temporarily naive.

"Might as well get on with it," he replied to Alex, earning a small and slightly reluctant smile from her.

 _You're doing the right thing_.

"Look, there's a few things that you should know. I should 'ave told you all a little while ago but things got in the way. Thankfully I've 'ad DI Drake to 'elp me see clearly again, and so it can't wait any longer."

Ray, Chris and Shaz exchanged uncertain glances, watching Gene as he strode towards what was left of his office. Alex braced herself against her desk, her stomach turning a little. She had no idea what their stories were but Gene did. It was his world after all. But whatever had happened, they had all suffered to be brought under his wing. She hated to think of it; none of them deserved it.

"Granger," Gene muttered, curling a finger. "Ladies first."

Shaz went, looking over her shoulder back at Chris, and Alex felt her heart fissuring before anything had begun.

One by one they went, and all emerged pale and shaken to the core. Shaz had screamed before she had left the room and came out crying for her mum, bundling herself into Alex's arms. Ray had a face like thunder, fists balled as he paced the bombsite of CID, spoiling for a fight. Chris was a quiet as a mouse, sitting himself down on a chair in the corner that was still upright, mulling things over before he went over to comfort a sobbing Shaz.

She should have noticed it as a precursor. And yet as awful as it was, she knew it would sink in with them all. The news was so much better coming from Gene, as opposed to Keats cackling it with delight. All they needed was time, and they'd all proved themselves more than capable in the recent weeks.

Given his reaction, perhaps it wasn't a surprise that Chris was the one to break the silence. "Maybe this explains the stars."

"Chris?" Alex uttered his name shakily.

"I saw stars, Ma'am. Last night, after the Guv told Luigi to get me a drink. There were loads of them. I thought I was going doolally."

Unfurling herself from his arms, Shaz nodded, her red-rimmed eyes looking towards Alex. "I saw them as well. After what happened with that creep McClean, when the Guv said I could make it into CID." Shaking only slightly, she smiled weakly towards Chris. "I s'pose it makes sense, now."

Chris smiled back, and then nodded towards Ray.

"What?" Ray barked back, clearly on edge. "I 'aven't seen any bloody stars, you poof."

Shaz crept closer to him, placing a hand upon his arm. "You told me you did. After the arson case, and the Guv told you 'well done'. It's alright, Ray, it's happened to us all."

"What about you, boss...er, Ma'am?" Chris asked.

They came rushing back towards her; the galaxy from the night before when she was lying beneath Gene, feeling as though she was within touching distance of heaven.

"Yes," she murmured, nodding her head. "Yes, Chris, I've seen stars."

"It must have 'appened to the Guv as well," Chris remarked, feeling another rush of accomplishment, bolstered by Shaz smiling towards him.

"I don't give a toss," Ray shouted, shocking them all. "I just want to know what 'e thinks gives 'im the right..."

Knowing he was being talked about, Gene emerged from his office having steeled himself with a scotch or two. Alex saw the weariness he wore as he stood in front of them all, and had the overwhelming urge to go forward and put her arms around him, stroke his head and whisper that the worst of it was over; nothing could shake them now.

Ray charged like a bull towards him instead, causing Gene to stumble back against the open doorframe.

"Steady on, Ray," he said, his hands resting on either side of the frame. "I know this is a shock..."

"Too right it's a bloody shock. Findin' out that your life isn't anythin' it seems. That it's not even a _life_." His eyes were flaring as he spat his words out, Alex bracing herself for another brawl as Gene remained silent. "Fourteen years I've been with you, and all I wanted was to make you proud. You were better than any DCI I've ever 'ad. The best." He shook his head as he looked down briefly. "But you turned out to be just the same. All you did was lie to me. To all of us."

Gene looked crushed as he let Ray's words cut into him. Alex couldn't take it.

"He didn't lie," she raised her voice against the echoing silence. "He'd just forgotten." She looked desperately at Ray, pleading with him to see sense, not to lose all of the belief he'd held for so long. "Don't walk away from him now. Please."

Instead of hearing her, his eyes remained fixed angrily on Gene.

"Is that it?" Ray continued. "You gunna let your bit of skirt do the talkin' for you now? Pathetic."

"Go," Gene said, finally, taking his eyes away from Alex's watery gaze. "All of you. It's Luigi's last night, give 'im a good send off." He fished in his pockets, handed a wad of notes out towards Ray. "It's on me."

Ray said nothing, refusing to take the money, and walked away without a glance back.

"Chris?" Gene uttered, offering out his hand. "Shaz?"

"I think I'm going to go home, Guv, if that's alright," Shaz replied apologetically. "It's been a long day, I'm tired."

"I'll go with you," Chris said, looking at Shaz as she turned towards him. "Just to check you get there okay."

Alex prayed that she hadn't led Gene along the wrong road in convincing him to reveal the truth. He'd had enough for one day without the thought of his team deserting him one by one, never to return. She was always going to stay with him, she knew that much.

Gene nodded in acceptance as Chris and Shaz gathered their things. "S'a good idea. We've got work to do tomorrow, same as usual. Or not, but we've still got a duty to do."

"Yes, Guv," Shaz nodded.

"See you then, Guv, Ma'am," Chris bobbed his head to them both before leaving, his hand guiding Shaz out of the door.

"Well, looks like it's up to you and me then, Bols. Fitting I s'pose, as we've given Luigi enough trouble over the years."

Alex gazed up at him, hardly believing he had switched so easily back into his old mode and yet finding a comfort in it.

"Ray will come round," she reassured him as he pouted. "Give him a chance to let off some steam. In a few days he'll be back to worshipping the ground you walk on."

"Wish I 'ad your optimism, Bolly," he sighed. "But there won't be enough time for that. Tomorrow is all there is. So Raymondo 'ad better come round ruddy sharpish."

She frowned for a moment, before the heavy realisation sunk in. She was fooling herself – she wondered when she would ever stop – if she thought things would go back to how they had always been.

Gene looked at her, confirming all that she now knew before he even said anything.

"They know too much now. I 'aven't got a choice; they 'ave to go."

She read the sadness in his eyes, the arrow pierced her within her chest. She was the one who had handed him the gun and made him fire. And once again, she was caught by the bullet, by nothing but her own doing. She swallowed thickly, her mouth parched, the ache that had swiftly built within her refusing to go away.

"And that means that I have to go, as well."

He broke gaze with her for a moment, giving them both a chance to face the inevitable.

"Too much of a clever clogs for yer own good, Bols."

She searched his expression desperately, the quiet resignation in his eyes too much for her to bear. _This couldn't be happening, she couldn't have died in vain._ The silence stretched on, consuming her more than ever before.

"Dunno about you, but I need a bloody drink. Or several, preferably."

"No!"

She grabbed onto his sleeve before he could turn to slink back to his lair. His eyes flashed as he looked into hers, everything between them falling down to this particular moment. She was utterly desperate now, but she didn't care.

"No, Gene," she managed, her breath coming too quick, "I won't leave you. I can't! Not now. Not after everything."

There was the smallest trace of a smile on his face, which left her even more bereft.

"I know I'm good in the sack, but not _that_ good." He stretched his hand out, long fingers brushing against her cheek and making her shiver painfully. "Chin up, Bolly. It won't be that bad. We'll both get a bit of peace at last."

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears from starting to fall. With a gentle stroke of his thumb he caught one as it rolled its way down. _Bloody bastard. Even when I want to hate him, he makes me love him even more._

"But...but it doesn't make sense," her words shuddered, "how can we know too much? I know you, Gene, more now than ever. This is _your_ world. You can't be alone in it. That's not fair."

He sighed heavily, wrenching his hand away. "No-one said anything about 'fair'. I've been lucky to get what I've been given. Not everyone gets a second chance. And if they do they don't always get a say in where they end up."

Alex nodded, though it was a reflex action more than anything.

"Contrary to popular belief I don't make the rules, Bols. Wish I did. This place existed before me, probably wasn't as good but there you go. The Super's not just there to make everything look official. There's a whole bloody bunch of suits above 'im, an' it doesn't do well to piss them off. If I step out of line they couldn't give a shit about all the years that have gone by, everythin' I've done. I'd be transferred quicker than a virgin in a brothel." He paused, steadying himself as he looked her firm in the eyes. "An' there wouldn't be any comin' back from that."

She breathed in; even now this place was so much more complex than she had ever realised.

"Whoever they are, they can't make me go. Not if you say so." She noticed him resisting the urge to put his head in his hands while she refused to listen once again, but of all the times now was not the one to stop. "You need me, Gene. And I..." - her voice still held its small tremble. "I need you."

"Alex."

His utterance of her name was all the confirmation that she needed.

"I had to leave my daughter without any choice, without a chance to say goodbye." She had to lay her hands upon him again, and it spoke volumes that he didn't push himself away from her. "I can't leave you too. I won't. It'll kill me, Gene."

The intensity of his eyes were at odds with the faintly amused expression that flickered upon his face.

"Think you're forgettin' something rather important there, Bolly." He let a rare, unguarded smile bloom upon his lips, and she thought how _beautiful_ he looked, cherishing it before it faded. "I've been a selfish bastard for too long, 'avin things my own way. Fuckin' typical, when the one thing that I want the most comes along."

Her heart ached within her chest, and yet at the same time she felt at ease, knowing that he felt the same tie to her as she did to him. It didn't make the hurt any less, not when she was aware that they could have had so much more in the time before these past couple of days - _damn all their stubbornness, the need to outdo the other_ \- but at least there was purpose. Joined irretrievably with tragedy, but wasn't that what all the best love stories were made up of?

"Gene," she said softly, uncertain whether she was able to speak anything else now for the rest of time.

He stayed stoic for a minute or two. "Can't let Luigi down, though an early night isn't a bad shout. Got the kids to look after tomorrow, and I don't mean those three."

Gathering herself she straightened her shoulders, dabbing the remnants of tears from her eyes. Gene fixed his gaze upon her, and even though it was rather ridiculous of her to think of it, she hoped that she didn't look an absolute state.

"Not sure I fancy a night on me own," he rasped, the look in his eyes causing her to all but fall apart. "Still got room in yer posh bed for a bit of rough like me?"

She smiled, doing what she could to forget all that was around the corner and just focus on one hour at a time. Just focus on him; he was all she had.

"Always."

* * *

It wasn't what she would have expected as a last hurrah, but it was fitting. Not just because of Molly and all that she had left behind. Cases like this one were exactly why she had entered the police force back in the other world, and it felt like she had come full circle.

With the others at the station seeing to the files, it was down to the two of them to bring the children back to their respective homes, fed and washed and as much at ease as they could be considering they had been through such a traumatic experience. Alex fussed over them, gave them reassuring words and hugs to the younger ones who craved the contact before they were able to sink back into the arms of their mothers. Gene told them stories of criminals that weren't too scary and cheeky jokes that were age-appropriate, giving them a warning not to go skipping off with strange blokes again before taking the two bags of penny sweets that he'd purchased out of the pockets of his overcoat, picking off any bits of fluff that had got stuck to them with careful glove-clad fingers.

She had smiled to herself all the while as she observed him, fluffing up the hair of each child before seeing them back over each threshold, receiving the cries of gratitude humbly from each relieved parent. He had insisted that he was no good with kids but she saw no evidence whatsoever to support his statement, knowing that it was just another part of his act. She willed herself not to spend too long imagining a world that had both Molly and Gene within it, though it was the most wonderful place to occupy for as much as she would let herself be indulged.

They took the Quattro back to the station for the final time that day, and Alex had never wished for any car ride to go at a slower pace. The inevitable could only be put off for so long. Gene didn't go at his usual break-neck speed, and as she glanced across at him, catching sight of blue irises in the rear-view mirror, she knew that he had the same idea.

He dumped the remaining sweets onto Chris's desk as they passed, much to DC Skelton's delight, and shut the door of his office once Alex was inside, closing as much as he was able the blinds that were now buggered.

She closed her eyes against the glug of scotch filling up one glass and then the other, opening them again to see Gene with his legs stretched leisurely out upon the desk.

"Here's to a job well done," Alex uttered, raising her glass into the air. She smiled at the wearied look he returned to her. "You know, I don't think a couple of them wanted to leave your side."

"Yeah, well they're alright so long as you get to give 'em back after an 'our or so," he grumbled, putting the facade back into place again, for however brief a time. "And they're a bit too bloody young to pass for new recruits just yet."

God, she had done so well at pushing it to the back of her mind. She glanced up at the clock on the wall that seemed to be ticking at double the speed, taking a long swig from the glass in her hand.

His eyes were on her again and she was powerless to resist their force, letting herself be pulled into the depths of his gaze.

"Weren't bad though, were we, Bollykecks?"

The sound that left her was somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. She found herself both wishing he would look away from her and never wanting him to stop, so that she would bring every trace of memory with her, sustaining her for however long it took for him to do all that was required of him.

Before she could open her mouth to form proper words, the phone rang loudly, making her shoulders jump.

Gene eyed her with uncertainty, unfurling his legs and curling his fingers around the receiver.

"Hunt. Hello, Sir. Yes. Now? Yeah, I can be there."

The call lasted less than two minutes, Gene extending to his full height once he'd put the phone back into place.

"Super's commanded me. Should smarten up."

Alex watched as he adjusted the knot of his tie, counting the beats of her heart while his palms smoothed down the front of his jacket. A quick check of himself in the little mirror balanced on top of a cabinet, and then his attention was back on her.

"This is it, Bolly. The time of reckonin'."

Her heart was beating far too fast, breath catching in her throat. She stood up on legs that felt like lead, bringing her eyes in line with his, at least for a few seconds before he decided he'd rather gaze at her crimson-stained lips instead.

"Sod it. People get less time for murder than what I've done 'ere." He drew his eyes back to hers, his expression set and determined. "You and me, Bols. Let's do a runner to Torremolinos. You bring a ridiculously skimpy bikini, I'll bring the baby oil. We'll be set."

She pursed her lips, needing the time to steady herself.

"Gene..." she shook her head lightly, wishing she had more confidence to throw all caution to the wind but being too terrified of the consequences.

"Bleedin' 'ell woman," he huffed, "I'm offerin' to do what you begged me for and I still can't bloody win. If this is what it's goin' to be like then maybe I am best off out of it."

She managed a small smile, running her hand over his shoulder.

"Go," she uttered. "I'll stay here."

He pouted, drawing himself back. "Shouldn't be too long. Don't you think about gettin' off without me."

"I'm taking every second I can, Gene."

She sat back down on the edge of the chair, watching his back as he went and trying to swallow away the lump in her throat. She listened to the chatter of CID as she remained in his office, smiled politely and declined Shaz's offer of checking out another restaurant down the road in Luigi's absence, watched the lights go off one by one. Alone she sat in the near-darkness, the ticking clock keeping her company while she waited for his return.

 _Close your eyes, count backwards from a hundred._ All she could feel was Gene's arms around her, his breath against her ear, rocking her as she sobbed helplessly into his shoulder.

 _See you around, Bollykecks._

The door banged against the wall, her eyes flying open at the sound.

"Gene?"

He looked past her as he strode back into the room, his gaze fixed on the target of his half-full glass. Alex watched him, feeling suspended in the air as he knocked back the rest of the whisky in one swoop, letting the empty glass rest in his hand for a minute before placing it incredibly carefully back down onto the table.

His eyes met hers for mere seconds, and then he was moving again, out into the main space of CID. With a solitary light left on, he was a bright spot in the room.

Alex's steps were held in a trance as she followed him, knowing without doubt she had to brace herself for the worst but not ready to let go. _Not yet. This can't be it._

The little old radio stood upon the desk, aerial extending to a preposterous distance in order for it to work properly. Alex watched Gene's fingers run over the dial, waiting a few seconds before he switched it on.

The song was already halfway through playing when the sound hit both of their ears.

# _It's the freakiest show  
Take a look at the lawman  
Beating up the wrong guy  
Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know  
He's in the best-selling show  
Is there life on Mars?#_

"Can't stand that bloody song," he said, the beginnings of a smirk starting to curve the corners of his lips upwards. "Tyler never stopped playin' it."

Alex narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth to question.

"You gunna 'elp me to pack, Bols? Not that there's much I want to take with me. Except a posh, mouthy tart with a 'ead full of brains and the common sense of a grain weevil. Don't s'pose you'd know where I'd find one of those?"

"Gene? Are you saying...?"

"Bloody 'ell. I should take the bit about the 'ead full of brains back, I reckon. Good job you look as good as you do."

He smiled at her and simultaneously her heart and head soared skywards. Without a second's delay she barrelled herself into his arms, causing him to take half a step backwards.

"Oh, Gene," she sighed, her hands bracing against his torso, finding him warm and solid beneath her fingers. "Tell me I'm not dreaming. Tell me this is real."

She heard him snicker, felt the rumble within his chest and his hands travelling up and down her back.

"As real as you can get, Bolly."

She smiled as she pillowed her head against him, burying herself against his embrace.

"No time like the present," he uttered, breaking the blissful silence in the safe knowledge that there'd be much more of this to come. "Best be on our way. Pub?"

Alex looked up at him, unable to take the smile from her face as she gazed into the eyes that always held her captivated.

"Pub," she replied.

* * *

The night was cool and calm, the sky above playing host to the most beautiful array of shining stars. In either life Alex had never seen such a sight, certainly not in the skies of central London. In the short distance the windows of the pub glowed gently, signalling the warm welcome that was to be had within. All five stopped in their tracks, eyes raking upwards, breath holding still for seconds.

"What d'you think it's like inside?" Chris wondered aloud, his gaze captivated.

"What do you _think_ , you twonk?" Ray answered him with a disbelieving look on his face. "It's a boozer." He pointed up towards the sign hanging outside. "It's _our_ boozer."

"Yeah, I know," Chris defended himself, "but y'know, it's been a while since we were in there. Nelson might have redecorated."

Ray shook his head, glancing towards Gene and Alex who stood a little further back. "Bleedin' 'ell. And I 'ave to spend all eternity with this numpty."

"Don't listen to him, baby," Shaz said, circling her hand into Chris's.

He took his eyes from the wondrous sanctuary of the pub and smiled towards her. "You'll like it, Shazza. Nelson does Ringos and everything."

"Fab," she exclaimed, nuzzling a kiss against his cheek. "As long as I'm with you then I know it'll be the best."

"Awww," Chris smiled goofily. "I love you, Shaz."

"And I love you right back," she replied, before they shared a smooch in front of the others.

"Love's young dream," Ray pulled a face of disgust as Chris and Shaz went hand in hand, disappearing behind the door of the pub. "I'm tellin' you, there best be a load of fit birds in there. I'm not playin' third wheel for the rest of time."

"Don't be such a tart, Raymondo," Gene barked, albeit warmly. "There'll be booze on tap. Go and get a round in."

Ray shrugged reluctantly. "Alright, Guv. Aren't you coming? Everyone'll want to see you."

Gene smirked. "Yeah, won't be long. But I'd like a moment, just Drake and myself. Before I get bloody charged at and rung dry."

Ray looked between the two of them, shaking his head but smiling. "You won't have to put your hand in your pocket all night, Guv. I'm guessin' for a lot longer than that."

Gene nodded, watching as the familiar face of Nelson put his arm around Ray and welcomed him inside. In the starlight, Alex watched him, saw the crooked smile falling into place upon his lips. His eyes were shining in a way she had hardly glimpsed before; except for when they had been together, as close as it was possible for two people to be.

She reached for his hand, wanting for nothing more than his happiness as her fingers curled around his.

"It's not what I expected it to be," she said honestly, trying to remember how many times she had stepped inside an old-fashioned pub in her life. She could count on the fingers of one hand.

"Come on, Bols. They've got a saloon bar," he nodded in approval, bottom lip jutting out. "Gotta be fancy enough for you."

"I'm a girl of simple tastes, Gene," she answered, smiling as he frowned.

"Oi, I 'ope you're not including me in that."

"Of course not."

She smiled, stepping into the light that spilled out onto the street from the open door of the pub, cupping her hand to his cheek, breathing him in as she stared into his eyes.

"I could be anywhere with you and it would feel like home."

"You are a soppy tart, Bolly," he appraised, his hands planting themselves on her waist and his head inching nearer towards her ear. "But between you and me, I don't reckon I could do without you either."

He pulled her closer to him and they shared breath before their lips met, the kiss starting off slow and soft but swiftly increasing in passion. Alex placed her palms against him, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth, the blood fizzing in her veins when she pondered that this love was safe in their hands; he was hers for the rest of time, never more than a pint and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc to separate them.

He hummed his approval, eyes raking over her as they broke apart, although their hands remained firmly upon one another.

"This is it," she sighed, smiling as she looked from Gene to the glowing pub, and back again. "Are you ready to leave this all behind?" she asked, feeling it was necessary. Even the most pleasant of changes could rock a routine, especially for someone as firmly entrenched in them as Gene.

His eyes were firm upon her as he parted his lips again, nodding his head once. "Been waitin' a long time for this."

She smiled, feeling affinity with him. "A lifetime."

He slid his hands upwards, and she giggled as she unbuttoned her coat to give him a glimpse of the short red dress she was wearing as well as allowing him a fondle of the silk. As he gazed down, she saw his eyes going wide.

"Christ on a bike!" he growled. "S'pose I shouldn't take the name in vain an' all, considerin'. But I think you might just tempt the man 'imself, Bolly. Dressed up like that."

She couldn't stop herself from letting out a pleased laugh. "Well, seeing as it's heaven, I thought I'd better make an effort. I mean, I'm assuming that I can change once I'm inside."

"No need, Bols," he replied. "Not unless it's into yer birthday suit. And I want to be the only one who gets that privilege. Jesus, those pints are going to go to waste, unless I can palm them off on Ray."

Alex smiled at him, letting out a gasp as his fingers crept beneath the hem of the dress.

"Nelson better have a bloody room ready, that's all I can say. Because I don't plan on lettin' you out for a very long time."

"Oh, Mr Hunt," she said, smirking as she let her own hands wander, catching the gorgeous glint in his eyes. "Forever is a long time. But I'm looking forward to every single second."

* * *

 **A/N: And they lived a very happy afterlife behind the doors of The Railway Arms...**

 **I have a headcanon that Gene and Alex are soulmates (okay, I assume I'm not alone in that) and that Gene won't be allowed to move on from the copper world until Alex arrives, and by the same thinking he'll only be let go by the higher powers when he sees fit to move Alex on. In short, they're always destined to be together! (yes, I am a soppy tart as well)**

 **I have such a soft spot for Chris, so I guess subconsciously made him the one to figure out the spooky stars - and that Gene and Alex had got it together.**

 **Oh, obviously _Life on Mars?_ written by David Bowie.**

 **So that's the end of that one; I hope you enjoyed and I'd love to know what you thought :)**


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